Friendship's Bond

by Meg Hutchinson

  The Devil’s Pool! Relief had swept over him. Disused, flooded as far back as memory could reach, the open pit shaft had been named for its black waters. Locals carefully avoided the place. But anyone not familiar with terrain pockmarked with abandoned pit workings could easily fall victim to its treachery.

  It was fortunate no houses stood closer than Ebenezer’s to that black hole, fortunate there had been nobody to witness that body being hauled from the pony trap, the pockets of its clothing being emptied of all means of identification before it was rolled into that black oily maw.

  Then keeping to the way he had come, taking the path running behind St Peter’s Church and on along the derelict ground that bordered Short Street he had returned animal and vehicle to its owner then himself to Cross Street all without the need to explain his late-night jaunt to anyone.

  In the privacy of his own home he had opened the valise; in the silence of the living room he had been given yet one more blessing.

  Chapter 22

  ‘I knows the cause of your goin’ off the way you did and I understands; I be only sorry you didn’t find the lad.’

  ‘My behaviour was selfish and thoughtless, Mr Langley was right to say so.’

  ‘No,’ Leah insisted. ‘It weren’t for Edward to go chidin’ you, he don’t know the all of it.’

  Nor do you. Ann kept the thought to herself. You don’t know what I have to do to get Alec away from Thomas Thorpe.

  Continuing the daily task of turning cheeses stored in the cool cupboard, inching each large round block a little further along the well-scrubbed shelves in order to make room for more, Leah went on. ‘You an’ the lad; time ’as you feelin’ for one another as would brother an’ sister, it be natural your worryin’ for him same as it be natural for you to go a searchin’ again today.’

  ‘I won’t be searching for him today.’

  ‘Not search! Eh wench, don’t go leaving off lookin’ for the lad on account of me; what ’appened last evenin’ were the fault of tiredness an’ naught beside so you go look for Alec and pay no mind to aught but that.’

  ‘I . . .’ Ann stumbled over the reply building in her mind. It would be lying to the woman who trusted her but to tell Leah the truth could have Alec in terrible danger. ‘I . . . that is Alec has spoken more and more of the people who were to meet him. I think he has gone to them.’

  ‘But I thought he d’ain’t know where it was them folk be livin’?.’

  Oh Lord, she was making things worse. Ann met the quizzical look as Leah turned from closing the cool cupboard. She strove for a plausible reply. ‘A week or so back he said he was fairly certain he knew where to find them.’

  ‘But to go off wi’out a word, slippin’ away afore folk be up, don’t seem the sort o’ thing that lad would do.’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly without a word,’ Ann countered, ‘he has been leading up to it for a while now. He told me he felt unable to make the break the moment we arrived in this country. He would not admit to lacking courage to strike off on his own but I knew how it felt to be in a country where you knew no one, where everything was strange and different. Now I feel Alec has found the confidence he needed.’

  ‘That be all well an’ good but still he should have teken a bite afore goin’, should have let me mek him a sandwich or two to tek along of him.’

  What Leah was really saying was, why had he not at least said goodbye? Watching her now patting freshly churned butter into small portions Ann’s heart tripped in sympathy for the obvious hurt the woman was feeling. That was a feeling she also knew well, the hurt those many times her father had left the room without a word, the times he had seemed not to notice or even care she was there at all.

  ‘Alec did what he did for a reason. He loves you very much and feels you love him the same way; leaving secretly was his way of sparing you heartache.’ Ann carried the tray of butter portions to its own cool cupboard, hiding the tears that threatened to fall.

  ‘It would ’ave been hard.’ Leah sniffed her own threatening tears. ‘Like you says I’d come to think much of the lad; I prays God be alongside of him wherever he be.’

  ‘. . . he is not at Chapel House . . .’

  Where then? Where had Thomas Thorpe taken Alec? And would the man keep to his word, would he release the boy once he had raped her? Would one time be all he demanded?

  Seeing from the corner of her eye the shudder rippling across Ann’s shoulders Leah marched to close the cupboard saying as she did so, ‘Bein’ out on the heath as long as you was don’t go doin’ a body no good, it’s put a chill to your bones; you go rest by the fire while I finishes up, ain’t like there be so much to do ’ere.’

  ‘I haven’t taken a chill it’s just . . .’

  ‘Just?’

  It had to be faced and now was the moment. ‘Leah.’ Ann swallowed hesitantly then more firmly. ‘Leah, there is something we need to discuss.’

  ‘If that be meanin’ you ’ave summat to say then you best say it an’ be done.’

  ‘It . . . it’s the matter of the dairy,’ once started Ann rushed on, ‘the fact of your producing so much less, that is all a result of my being here; you have to allow me to speak with those women, to apologise for the trouble I have caused them.’

  While stirring rennet into the fresh milk it seemed Leah would make no answer; then she turned a tight look to Ann.

  ‘Trouble!’ she snapped. ‘And what of the trouble they’ve caused you?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Oh don’t it!’ Leah’s indignant exclamation chased along whitewashed walls. ‘Well it mightn’t matter to you, wench, but it matters to me. I won’t ’ave nobody a tellin’ me who I can or can’t ’ave bide ’neath my roof.’

  ‘But look what is happening, the loss of customers means loss of income.’

  As she turned off the tap draining the last drops of whey from sieves of muslin-tied curds, Leah lifted a sharp glance.

  ‘That be my business and none of nobody else; but this much I’ll tell: if the like of Jinny Jinks and Lottie Hopcroft think they’ll see Leah Marshall come knockin’ on their doors a beggin’ of ’em to buy her butter and cheese then they’d be well advised to get theirselves good strong eyeglasses for they’ll be older far than Methuselah afore ever that ’appens.’

  ‘But making less butter surely means a lot of the milk going to waste.’

  Leah cast a long searching look about the dairy. ‘Waste?’ She glared. ‘I’ll ask you the same as I asked Edward when he spoke as you’ve done: ’ave you seen other than the whey given Betsy an’ her little ’uns leave this dairy, anythin’ y’might call waste?’

  ‘No.’ Ann blushed at the accusation. ‘But you can’t go on making cheese, the cupboards are already full.’

  ‘Ar wench, they be full.’ Leah nodded. ‘But come tomorrow they’ll be empty. One thing you needs learn about cheeses: looked after properly they’ll keep for years, the flavour improves along of the keepin’ in a cool dry place and my cellar be perfect. Them there cheeses’ll mature nicely and as for the whey drained in the mekin’ of ’em you go look at old Betsy and them piglets then tell me does you still think aught be goin’ to waste? So now if your enquirin’ nose be nicely wiped you can help get these trays and vats scoured ready for Edward bringin’ of milk from Hill Rise.’

  He had barely spoken to her. It had been as though even to look at her had been distasteful to him. Filling the water bucket from the pump in the yard Ann glanced in the direction of the town. She had offered to make the delivery to Leah’s customers but Edward Langley had turned his back, his refusal polite but unreservedly cold.

  Ann carried the bucket into the scullery where she poured half of its contents into the shallow sink. Then she fetched the kettle from the living-room fire and added boiling water, the resulting cloud of steam condersing like tears along her eyelashes.

  He had said Leah would have wanted her to stay overnight, Leah would have worried for her being on the str
eets. Leah would have worried! Ann blinked away the fringing moisture. Edward Langley had shown no such concern. Perhaps he would have preferred her to refuse to walk out of the house there and then; most certainly his look on seeing her run to embrace Leah, his attitude while unloading and reloading the cart had been that of cold antagonism.

  She refilled the kettle then turned to scrubbing ladles and butter pats. Edward Langley had demonstrated clearly he found her presence here undesirable, his very silence had cried loudly he wanted her gone. Not to worry, Mr Langley. Ann rinsed the last of the scrubbed utensils in a bowl of Leah’s own home-made sterilising solution of one part water to three parts white vinegar. Today will see you get what you want.

  It would also see Thomas Thorpe get what he wanted.

  Ann leaned heavily against the crude wooden board set against the sink.

  It need not happen! She did not have to go to Chapel House, she need not submit to Thomas Thorpe’s atrocious demand; she could walk away from this town and all it held.

  ‘. . . should I fail to get what is owed by one then I simply take it from the other; male or female, woman or boy either is acceptable.’

  That was why she could not walk away, no matter how tempting the prospect of freedom. Alec had said friends should trust each other; it was a trust she would not break. Alec was confined against his will where she was imprisoned only by her own. A prisoner of friendship! How Thomas Thorpe would laugh at that.

  ‘I’ve went along of you today lad cos I wants to talk with you.’

  ‘You are going to marry me, I knew I would break your resistance given time.’

  ‘I’ve warned you afore, I’ll be doin’ time lessen you leaves off your daftness, time in one of His Majesty’s prisons.’

  Driving the milk cart into the yard of Leah’s smallholding Edward turned to the woman beside him. ‘I give in but I don’t give up.’

  ‘Ar well you never did ’ave sense enough to know when you’d lost,’ Leah retorted, climbing from the cart. ‘Now lessen you ’ave more fat to chew I’ll away inside and show the kettle to the pot then we’ll see to the washin’ of them churns.’

  Edward shook his head. ‘Churns can wait, first you get your cup of tea.’

  ‘I don’t hold no objection to that lad,’ Leah nodded agreeably, ‘but I reckon after a pullin’ of that cart all mornin’ old Jess there deserves a drink and a nosebag afore pullin’ it all the way ’ome to Hill Rise.’

  ‘You’ve seen the way of it, seen for y’self the number of women no longer buyin’ from my dairy, that be what I wants to talk to you about, that an’ the business we talked on a week or two back. It be my thinkin’ we should no longer consider bindin’ of my place to your’n; with things the way they be that would be an unfairness to you.’

  ‘Leah you don’t have to worry . . .’

  ‘Hear me out lad.’ Leah glanced up from tea she had brewed while Edward had given his horse water and oats. ‘It’s been in my mind them folk havin’ teken their custom elsewhere might ’ave no mind to bringin’ it back and I won’t hitch a failin’ business to your’n.’

  ‘They would be back tomorrow if not for your being so stubborn.’

  ‘If I made Ann and the lad go! Say what you means lad, that way saves we both a march around the Wrekin.’

  Ann. Edward noticed the easy use of the name. Leah had really taken to her pair of orphans; it would cause her real regret when they left but their staying might cause even more. Adding milk to his cup he watched the swirl of white and brown turn and twine drawing closer to each other. Like a man taking a woman into his arms, bringing her to him, holding, caressing, touching like lovers . . . A movement at the other side of the table broke the reverie. Edward stirred his tea vigorously. Thoughts of that kind were for moonstruck kids.

  ‘You said to speak plain so I will.’ He spoke tightly, the words addressed more to the young woman so constantly in his mind than to Leah. ‘Things were going along fine until they came, now everything is cockeyed. The folk of the town are on edge and you . . . you are working harder than ever yet sales are cut by half. How long do you think you can go on this way?’

  Swallowing a mouthful of tea Leah gave a moment to the pleasure. Tea had served her well in the past, been a comfort in long lonely hours; a quiet cup of tea had helped with many decisions since losing her family and would help again now.

  ‘I shall go on as long as the good Lord sees fit to give me strength; as for what you an’ them folk along of the town sees as a problem it don’t be such for me. I won’t pretend I don’t be grieved at the lad’s decidin’ to go nor will I deny it’ll cause me that same sorrow when Ann does the same but I’ve long learned to cope with losin’ of them I loves.’

  Leah had made it a lifetime rule never to interfere in other people’s affairs, to afford them the privacy she expected in her turn. But, the argument she had dwelt on so many times since the death of Deborah rose again, wouldn’t any mother try to help when she saw her child was hurting? Hadn’t this man been like a child to her since the passing of his own mother? The answer was yes but did that accord her the privilege of speaking out of turn or would it be the ending of a friendship? Seeing him glance towards the scullery, knowing that in Edward’s mind he looked further, into the dairy where Ann Spencer was working, Leah’s decision was made.

  ‘Edward lad.’ His glance returned to her so Leah went on firmly. ‘A minute since I said for you to speak plain, now it be my turn. I never was one to walk a mile when a yard would bring me to the same place so I speaks frank; be sure, be sure in your soul it won’t be Leah Marshall alone will be heartbroke with that wench leavin’.’

  She had said her piece. From at the door opening on to the yard Leah watched the tall figure, its stride hampered by a slight limp. She had thought in the seconds of loud silence following her words Edward Langley had taken offence but he had fastened her in his arms and said quietly, ‘You certainly know how to hit a man over the head with a bargepole.’

  But it seemed her blow had not been heavy enough.

  Leah watched him load the churns Ann had kept ready and noticed him turning his hand quickly the other way as the girl came to the dairy entrance. As he led the horse from the yard without a word to Ann, Leah sighed. She had tried to put sense into his stubborn mind but as with everything else in Edward Langley’s life the problem of Ann Spencer must be resolved by him alone.

  Chapter 23

  Edward Langley had refused her offer to accompany him on the delivery round. Had he done so in order to avoid conflict with more of Leah’s customers, women who would take umbrage at her still being in Wednesbury? Ann, folding linen, shook her head at the thought. It was more true to say Edward Langley did not wish her company. To try to explain only to have him accuse her as before would have been even more painful, so she had said nothing.

  But wasn’t she planning to do much the same thing? Wasn’t it her intention to leave this house giving no reason? If only she could explain, go with Leah’s blessing as she had with Maija’s.

  That also had been done in secrecy under the cover of night. Ann was suddenly whisked back in time, memory bringing her to a dimly lit room warmed by a black iron stove. Alec, his fair hair gleaming in the lambent glow of the one oil lamp, was taking the bowl of soup handed to him by Maija. It was as her hands touched his it happened, the same strange occurrence as twice before.

  Maija’s body had tensed, her breathing suddenly quick and shallow. At the rim of the lamp’s yellow spill the priest, taking his leave, turned at the sound then, with Maija’s sons at his heels, came to stand beside her. Telling Alec there was no cause to be afraid he nodded to the eldest son who gently lowered his mother to her chair.

  ‘Restlessness breathes over the land . . . death waits in the shadows . . . its hand moves . . .’

  The woman’s unblinking eyes shone like polished stone as they stared at a scene no one else could see. Her voice, at first a trembling whisper, became almost a cry as she jerk
ed forward and reached out her hands as if to hold something.

  ‘. . . the eagle . . .’

  Words the priest had murmured sounded afresh in Ann’s mind.

  ‘. . . the eagle is pushed from its nest, its wings are broken . . .’

  What had it meant? Once more fully in the present, Ann asked herself the question she had put to the priest but he had supplied no answer, nor could she. Twice before she had seen the woman caught as by some unseen hand, twice watched as she seemed to look upon some other world, yet each time she had spoken of it to the priest the man had appeared reluctant to discuss the matter.

  Did his religion forbid him to accept what her own grandmother had often referred to as ‘the second sight’? Did he think perhaps Maija’s senses were beginning to wander?

  She took the folded linen to the chest of drawers, still dwelling on the events following rapidly on that evening, events which had her smuggled from the village of Ruotsinpyhtää in the hours before dawn.

  The priest had called at Maija’s home a little after breakfast the morning following the woman’s strange behaviour. There were men, strangers to the village, one of whom Maija’s sons recognised as the man they had beaten. They might want only to buy fish and beer to take back to their own vessel but Maija’s sons had sent word of their suspicions to the priest.

  ‘You should come no more to the church,’ he had told her after a hushed conversation with Maija. ‘You do not go beyond the walls of this house, nor will the boy.’

  Did he think those men had come to take revenge for what had befallen a comrade, to help him gain what had been denied?

  ‘There is great unrest in Finland, family disagrees with family, friend opposes friend, dissension spreads town to town ever more widely.’

  But why insist she and Alec remain indoors? They had disagreed with no one.

  He had fingered the heavy gold cross seeming to search for the right answer and when it came his voice was heavy with sadness.

  ‘A spark in a hayloft can burn down the barn, the barn can spread fire to the house, from a house through a town. Should those men be what we call “Red” cadres, men intent on overthrowing this country’s government, they will use any means of fomenting trouble. I would not have you be the spark that sets Ruotsinpyhtää ablaze.’