Sixpenny Girl

by Meg Hutchinson

  For a moment, silence, broken only by the tick of a clock, wrapped the elegantly furnished sitting room, then Zadok’s visitor spoke.

  ‘No further use?’ He smiled. ‘Does that include my acquiring of the special goods, the ones you enjoy so much?’

  Leaning heavily in his winged chair Zadok eyed his visitor. That part of their business association had gone well, the goods he supplied had proved satisfactory and when no longer required had sold on at a decent profit, but then, like foggers, sellers of more special goods were not difficult to come by.

  ‘What were got from you can be got elsewhere,’ he said, touching a bell cord which would summon his wife. ‘Now you tek your hook, and mind . . . if you was thinking of opening your mouth, Ensell, then don’t. Not lessen you wants it closed for good!’

  ‘I see no reason to wait, my love, we can marry now. I want to be with you, take care of you.’

  Held in his arms Saran tried to find the reason those words brought a kind of panic to her heart. Jairus loved her, hadn’t he proved as much when searching for her family . . . for Livvy’s children? Yet still the thought of marriage disturbed her.

  ‘Please, a little longer.’ She drew away. ‘I . . . I have not yet kept my promise to avenge the killing of my mother and sister.’

  Jairus’s insides raged. Marriage to her was not his heart’s desire but it was one way of keeping his head above water. Minch had been adamant, there would be no more money from him, so this was his only recourse, she had to be made to agree to an immediate marriage.

  Drawing her back against him, his dark eyes darkened still more, his mind already playing on another vengeance. He, too, would see Zadok Minch destroyed.

  ‘Then let me help you,’ he murmured. ‘Marry me and, as your husband, I will have the right to see that monster put where he belongs, where he can never harm another woman.’

  ‘But there is the bread and . . . and the nail-makers, so many people depend on the business . . . on me.’ It was her last excuse, she could not extend her prevarication much further.

  ‘I will take all that pressure from you, my darling, you need have no worry. The business will go on as you wish. Marry me and together we will see your promise to your loved ones fulfilled.’

  Lips pressed against her hair hid the smile as she nodded. Jairus Ensell would keep his word . . . the word made to himself.

  ‘I begs your pardon, I d’ain’t know you had a visitor. Livvy, her said . . .’ The woman she had taken from the workhouse bobbed an awkward curtsy as Saran wheeled free. ‘I begs pardon . . . you too, sir, I—’ Her eyes wide, she stared at the man smiling across at her, then, still mumbling her apology, she ran from the house.

  ‘We will marry very soon.’ Jairus had no intention of letting the interruption spoil his advantage. ‘Next week, my darling, no . . . no, I will have no argument,’ he touched her lips gently with one finger, ‘next week you will become Mrs Jairus Ensell.’

  Following behind as he walked to his carriage, Saran felt dazed. Mrs Jairus Ensell! It should be the epitome of everything she wanted, everything she could ever hope for . . . so why did she not want it at all?

  ‘Jairus, I—’

  ‘No more words,’ taking her into his arms he smiled, ‘except the ones I shall say to you every day of your life . . . I love you, I love—’

  ‘You bastard, Ensell, you took my lad and my little wench and I’m going to cut your slimy heart out!’

  Pushing herself free of Jairus, Saran gasped at the sight which met her eyes. Holding an axe above his head Edward Elwell was running towards them.

  ‘I knows it were you,’ Edward screamed his anger, ‘I’ve been given proof and now you be goin’ to die. You took my lad, took him to be buggered, and my little wench . . . was it to be the same for ’er?’

  ‘Edward, stop!’ Hardly aware of her action Saran ran to meet the furious man, hurling herself at him, holding on with all her strength. ‘Edward, you don’t know what you’re saying, there must be some mistake.’

  The strength of madness in his arm, the glint of it in his eyes, Edward Elwell pushed her aside. ‘There be a mistake all right,’ he breathed, ‘and he made it by comin’ ’ere, but it’ll be the last he ever meks.’

  ‘Please, Edward, stop . . . think what you are doing!’

  ‘No, Miss Saran . . .’ Edward Elwell walked slowly towards the man stood beside the carriage, ‘I knows what I be doing, that which I vowed I’d do should I find the one stole my young ’uns. That man be Ensell and I be going to cut his evil heart from his body!’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, man.’ Jairus Ensell, his face pale, placed a hand on the carriage. ‘What gives you grounds to accuse me?’

  ‘You’ve been marked!’ Edward raised the axe higher. ‘You’ve been recognised. It were you took my Joseph, you went back for my Martha; two children, one of ’em no more’n a babby, but that made no difference, did it, Ensell; you could get money for ’em no matter the age, and that were your only concern. ’Ow much did Zadok Minch pay you for Joseph . . . ’ow much was you to get for Martha?’ Near enough to see the fear in the other man’s eyes, Edward halted. ‘Tell the truth, Ensell, clear your conscience and mebbe the Lord will forgive what I never will.’

  Zadok Minch! Edward had spoken of Zadok Minch! Saran’s mind reeled. Jairus and Zadok Minch!

  Seeing the horror in the eyes that lifted to his, Jairus knew his last chance had failed. Even could he prove the man wrong, Saran Chandler would never marry him now! Swinging up into the carriage he grasped the reins in one hand, the other fastening on a short-handled whip.

  ‘Your children!’ he snarled. ‘What better purpose can scum like that serve than to bring one man money and another gratification! They are worth no more to the world!’ Flicking the whip so it caught the handle of the axe he snatched it from Edward’s hand, then flicked it again, slashing the snake-like leather across the man’s face and, even as Saran screamed, slashing again. ‘Keep your brats,’ he snarled again, the whip whistling through the air, ‘you will never have Jairus Ensell!’

  Bringing the whip across the flank of the horse he sent the carriage hurtling forward on the track leading towards Wednesbury, his laugh floating to where Saran knelt beside the bleeding Edward.

  32

  ‘He did what!’

  Gideon Newell’s grey eyes darkened, anger making them glisten like black diamonds.

  Her nerves still jangling from the experience of the afternoon, Saran repeated, ‘Jairus . . . he slashed Edward with a whip.’

  ‘Why?’ The question was Luke’s.

  ‘He said . . . he said . . . Oh God, I can’t believe it . . .’ The trauma of it all suddenly coming home to her Saran couldn’t hold the tears any longer. ‘I almost . . . I almost . . .’

  Scraping back his chair Luke rose but before he had taken a step Gideon was across the kitchen, the weeping Saran in his arms.

  ‘Did he hurt you?’ Gideon’s normally strong voice cracked. ‘Did . . . did Ensell touch you at all?’

  ‘No, no, he . . . we . . .’

  We! Gideon’s world rocked about him. We – Saran and Ensell! What did that word mean, why had the man been here? But he had every right to come to Brook Cottage, he was engaged to Saran.

  ‘Jairus was insistent . . .’

  Gideon’s brain suffered a minor explosion. He wouldn’t knock hell out of the man, not this time; this time he really would kill him!

  ‘He said there was no need to wait any longer, he . . . he said we should marry next week. I . . . I agreed and he left.’

  The trembling explanation a hymn in his brain, Gideon’s arms tightened. Ensell had not forced himself on her, she had not been harmed; but next week . . .

  Seeing the look that crossed his friend’s face Luke smiled to himself. That was where Saran should be, in Gideon Newell’s arms, not those of that snake Ensell. Mouthing that he was going to see the Elwells he slipped from the kitchen. Left alone Gideon allowed himself to feel the joy
of holding close the girl he loved, the girl he would give his life for, but who in a few days would be lost to him for ever.

  ‘I didn’t know, believe me, I didn’t know Jairus was . . .’

  She had lifted her head, those quivering lips were just beneath his . . . Gideon’s mouth tightened against the rush of fire surging through his whole body. To hold her another minute would be too long, he would not have the strength to deny himself that which he longed for, to feel that soft mouth beneath his own. Releasing her gently he helped her to a chair.

  ‘The woman I took on to help with the bread, she came into the kitchen while Jairus was . . . was still here.’ Saran continued as if in a dream. ‘She apologised for intruding and went out again. I saw Jairus to the door, that was when Edward came with an axe in his hand screaming that his children had—’

  Whatever Edward had screamed was obviously painful but to bottle it up inside herself would see it grow more so, it had to be spoken of. Quietly Gideon asked, ‘What did Edward say?’

  The question acted like an open door releasing all the horror pent up inside her, words tumbling over words until the whole story was told.

  ‘The woman you took on, there was no mistake?’

  Still flooded with tears Saran’s eyes glistened as she answered, ‘She was certain. She said she felt happy for Joseph the day she saw Jairus leave with him. Thinking it must be the lad’s father come to take him out, she thanked God for His mercy. But then later, when she saw him again – this time with a little girl – she wondered why he had not claimed both children at the same time.’

  ‘But was she sure the girl was Martha?’

  ‘She did not say the name.’ Saran sniffed back threatening tears. ‘She said the child was small and thin, “too thin for to ’ave had a easy life” were her actual words but then said that was not what she noticed most, for that was normal in this town where bread was snatched from the mouths of babes by the greed of foggers and nail masters. What most had caught her attention was the doll a wardress handed back to her, a rag doll with a face stitched from wool.’

  ‘But surely rag dolls are not so uncommon, many mothers in Wednesbury must make them for their daughters.’ Gideon pressed the point gently, he had to be sure.

  Twisting a handkerchief between her fingers Saran nodded. ‘I thought the same thing and when I asked I was told yes, they did, but how many of those dolls had a line of stitches big enough to anchor a dray cart along its back?’

  The same doll Saran had unknowingly taken from Jairus Ensell’s carriage! Gideon breathed deeply, swallowing the disgust rising from his stomach. Saran was upset enough, his anger would only add to that.

  ‘Where did Jairus go?’ It was a lame question but he had to say something.

  ‘I don’t know, he whipped the horse along the track but he must have heard Edward shout that every man in Wednesbury would hunt him down.’

  ‘And that includes me!’ Luke entered the kitchen. ‘We should have killed that swine the night I found Martha in his house . . .’ The rest tailed off as he caught Gideon’s warning look.

  ‘You found Martha in Jairus’s house?’ Blank disbelief chasing the residue of tears from her eyes, Saran looked from one to the other. ‘You knew all along yet you said nothing to me? Why, Luke . . . why?’

  ‘It wasn’t Luke’s idea to keep it from you,’ Gideon answered before Luke could. ‘I thought you would not believe, that it would seem something concocted in order to—’

  ‘Gideon thought you’d see it as jealousy,’ Luke broke in, ‘you knows well enough neither of us saw him as the man for you.’

  ‘But you would have let me marry him, you knew what he had done . . . what he was . . . yet still you would have stood by and let me become the man’s wife!’

  Her disbelief turning to anger she rounded on Gideon. ‘And Joseph – was he fed the same story, was that why he too said nothing, was he supposed to see it as jealousy?’

  ‘Saran . . .’

  ‘No, Luke.’ Gideon kept his eyes on Saran, his look candid and open. ‘Joseph is young but he has a shrewd mind. We told him the truth but he chose to keep silent, wanting to protect his mother from a grief which could easily have proved too much. Time will heal and when it had the whole truth would have been told, at least that was what Luke and I planned; unfortunately fate had its own plan.’

  ‘And by that time I would have become Mrs Jairus Ensell. Did you not once think what that would have done to me? Finding I was the wife of a . . . a child stealer!’

  Could he have allowed that to happen? Would his stupid pride have got in the way of truth, would he have ruined her life as well as his own? Beneath Saran’s scathing look a medley of thoughts cascaded through Gideon’s mind.

  ‘That wouldn’t ’ave happened!’ Luke’s glare was mutinous. ‘He might not ’ave told you cos of . . . well, he knows why he mightn’t, but I would.’

  Because of what . . . why might Gideon Newell not have told her? The question in her eyes she looked at him, but as quickly he turned away, leaving without another word.

  So Jairus Ensell was dead, his carriage found half buried in a collapsed mine shaft. Well, that was no great loss to the world and none at all to him. Pleased with the way events had turned, Zadok Minch stood in the yard of his newly acquired tube works. True, the man had kept him supplied with the playthings he liked but they were always to be got elsewhere, all it took was a sovereign or two and he would make those in plenty with the tubes. That had been another stroke of good fortune for him, p’raps if the nailing had gone on he would never have thought of buying this place, but here was where he would make a real fortune . . . tubes were the future and it would all belong to Zadok Minch!

  Holding a short length of iron in his hand he surveyed the wide heaps of finished tubing. All his, it was money in the bank. Slowly, a satisfied smile spreading over his jowled face, he turned half circle then halted, his eyes narrowing viciously as he caught sight of a slight figure standing at the gate.

  Brown skirts, cheap cotton blouse, a shawl he wouldn’t give a dog to lie on . . . all the same, they were all the same! But it was the hair, that he could not be mistaken about: fair with streaks like beaten gold . . . No, he could not be mistaken about that.

  The bar gripped between fingers tight as iron bands, he stepped forward several paces before yelling, ‘What is that bloody woman doing at my gate?’

  Surprised by the shout the gatekeeper turned, two wrapped sandwiches almost falling from his grasp. ‘This ’ere be Saran, Miss Chandler, her always calls at this time.’

  ‘Not any more, her don’t!’ Zadok’s little eyes glinted his pleasure.

  ‘But Mr Minch, sir, her brings mine and Luke’s dinner, her brings it every day.’

  ‘Not to my works, her don’t, and if you don’t like what I says then you can bugger off along with her. In fact, it don’t matter whether you likes my sayin’ or you don’t, you can get your tin, you be finished ’ere!’

  ‘There is no call to let our differences spill on to others.’ Saran stared at the face flushed now with the colour of advancing anger. ‘You have no call to sack—’

  ‘No call, no call!’ The interruption echoed over the yard. ‘I needs no bloody call, I be master ’ere, do you hear that, you smart-mouthed bitch, I be master and if I says a man be sacked he be sacked, and when I tell a scruffy-arsed woman to leave my gate then by God her had better leave quick or this iron will knock in what words don’t.’

  ‘Don’t, sir, the wench didn’t mean . . .’ Seeing the iron bar raised the gatekeeper hobbled towards Zadok but one vicious swipe of it sent the old man tumbling to the ground.

  ‘How very applaudable!’ Saran’s searing glance strafed the flushed face. ‘You are as skilful at hitting crippled old men with a bar of iron as you are at beating helpless women to death with a whip. Tell me, do you take lessons in brutality or does it come naturally to you?’

  For a few seconds words seemed to clog Zadok’s throat t
hen he raised the piece of iron while his fat-encased eyes spat pure venom. ‘It comes natural!’ It was hissed like a snake poised to strike. ‘And I gets much pleasure from it, same as I be going to get when I bends this iron over your head!’

  ‘Try bending it over mine first!’ Gideon snatched the bar away, at the same time spinning the heavy frame of Zadok Minch around to face him. ‘There you are . . .’ he handed back the weapon, smiling as the other man’s hand closed over it, ‘try bending it over my head, but I warn you I am no helpless woman nor am I a crippled old man . . . but don’t let that stop you.’

  It seemed the rage in Zadok would carry him beyond common sense, that he would in blind fury strike at the man now facing him, but then his fingers parted and the iron bar clattered on the hard ground; yet there was no defeat in the stare that rested on Gideon.

  ‘You can get your bloody tin an’ all!’ he growled. ‘You be finished, same as the cripple, but afore you goes I ’ave a warnin’ for you. Zadok Minch don’t tek to threats and he always finds a way of repaying ’em, and once be all it teks!’

  Glancing first to where Saran stood with her bread cart, ensuring the set-to had caused her no hurt, Gideon helped the crippled gatekeeper to his feet before going back into the works.

  ‘Gideon!’ A puzzled Luke watched the jacket being shrugged on broad shoulders. ‘Be you going somewhere?’

  ‘I’ll talk to you tonight when your shift ends.’ Gideon picked up the hammer belonging to him.

  The move was not missed, Luke touched a hand to the older man’s sleeve. ‘You never teks that hammer home nights, not once since I’ve knowed you, so there ’as to be summat up . . . What is it? I wants to know now not tonight.’

  ‘I told you, same as I told the wench at the gate, bugger off . . . or do I get half a dozen of this lot to throw you off the premises!’

  The roar had Luke twisting to face the works’ new owner. Wench at the gate? The only wench ever to come to the Coronet Works was . . .