by Polly Heron
‘Do you have paperwork, invoices and such, to support your claim?’ Sowerby demanded.
‘Indeed I do.’ So you can take that snooty look off your face, old man. ‘In fact, I can do better than that. I’ve written to the various tradesmen who did the work, asking them to confirm that I’m the person they dealt with. I have their replies here.’
‘If I might—’ Sowerby began.
‘I’m happy to show these letters to Mr Sturgeon and to this gentleman,’ he indicated the clerk, ‘but I’d prefer not to hand them over to Mr Linkworth’s solicitor at this stage. Mr Sowerby himself advised me to instruct my own man. Until I have done so, it would be inadvisable for me to make the documentation available to Mr Linkworth’s solicitor. Isn’t that so, Mr Sowerby?’
The clerk came to him for the pieces of paper.
‘Before you see them, Mr Sturgeon, I should explain that I wrote to each tradesman asking him to confirm that I was the one who made all the arrangements for each piece of work to be done. In my letters, I said there was no need to write back at length, but that a brief confirmation, signed and dated, on my own letter would be sufficient. I hoped that by making it straightforward to reply, I would be rewarded by swift responses.’
Magistrate and clerk looked over the papers, then Sturgeon addressed Linkworth and his legal lackeys.
‘It is as Mr Carson says. Each letter is addressed to a tradesman with a request to confirm that certain specified work at Mr Tyrell’s cottage in Limits Lane was organised by Mr Richard Carson; together with dates and costs incurred; and each tradesman has written That is so or Agreed against the details and signed and dated it.’
‘If I might have the letters back, please.’ Before anyone looked at them too closely. ‘Thank you.’
‘Do I take it,’ asked Linkworth, ‘that you were responsible for the new water pump that replaced the old well?’
‘Indeed. Also the new cords in the sash windows; and the new compact kitchen range that replaced the old Victorian monstrosity. I also had the outside of the building repointed and painted and I had boards laid in the attic, which not only make it possible to store things up there but also keeps the cottage warmer in winter.’
He savoured the moment. He had outwitted Mr Sowerby; but he didn’t waste his time looking at the solicitor. He fixed his gaze on Gabriel sodding Linkworth. Now you see how it feels to lose something, matey. He didn’t gloat – well, he did, but only on the inside. Outwardly he was civil and pleasant.
‘I’ve totted up the account of expenditure for you, Linkworth, though I don’t have it with me. Would you like me to post it to you or should I send it to your solicitor?’
What was the right thing to do? It didn’t feel polite to get up and walk out. Belinda opened her handbag and pretended to search through it. Not that anyone was watching her. Mr Sturgeon and the clerks had gone and Richard also had departed, leaving Mr Linkworth and the two legal gentlemen huddled together. The other gentleman, the doctor from down south, had excused himself and left.
Being here today hadn’t been a comfortable experience. No one had looked down on her or anything like that – no one had really noticed her at all – but there was nothing quite like being in a smart, official room with well-dressed, well-spoken gentlemen to make you tingle with awareness of your simple shawl and your working-class origins.
Well, there was nothing to be gained by sitting here like a lemon. Rising, she drew her shawl around her shoulders. Part of her hoped to be noticed so she could say a polite goodbye; another part wanted to slip out unseen. The three men were deep in conversation. She made for the door.
‘Miss Layton, are you leaving?’
Drat. Now she looked rude for not saying goodbye. She turned, faking a smile. ‘I’m not needed here, am I, Mr Linkworth?’
He crossed the room to join her. His smile was kindly but his eyes were grave. ‘I hope you haven’t been bored.’
‘Not in the slightest. It’s been very interesting.’ Especially the bit with the ex-fiancée.
‘If you don’t mind waiting while I finish with Mr Sowerby, I’ll walk you to your bus stop. I won’t be coming back to the shop. I want to spend the rest of the day getting to know my cousin.’ His smile softened his hazel eyes into a colour approaching caramel.
She warmed to him. ‘I’ll wait out there for you.’
He opened the door for her. As she walked into the anteroom, a figure rose from a chair on the opposite side – Mrs Reed. She stood motionless, looking straight past Belinda. Behind her, in the doorway, Belinda sensed complete stillness. Ought she to duck out of the way? But her presence was immaterial: she might feel like piggy-in-the-middle, but to these two people, she was invisible.
Mrs Reed came forward. There was a table in the centre of the room. It looked as if she might walk into it, or possibly through it, like a ghost, but, without a glance, she skirted round it, her gaze on Mr Linkworth. She halted. Her face was pale, but there was a hectic slash of colour across her cheekbones.
‘I wanted to see you before I leave,’ she said.
Belinda silently stepped aside. Mrs Reed wore a pretty perfume, light with an underlying warmth, floral – roses.
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Mr Linkworth and Belinda felt like slapping him. Thank you for coming? He had been engaged to this woman, for pity’s sake. She deserved more than that; and yet, if he honestly didn’t remember her, what more was there for him to say? Especially as she was now the wife of another man.
‘Of course I came.’ It was what she had said in the magistrate’s room. Did she still love him? ‘The letter – the old letter from before the war, that was used as evidence…’
Realisation flickered in his face. ‘One I wrote to you.’
‘Yes.’ The word was so soft, it was almost a sigh.
A love letter? Did her husband know she had kept Gabriel Linkworth’s love letters?
Mr Linkworth shook his head. ‘I feel I ought to apologise for not remembering.’
‘It’s hardly your fault you lost your memory.’ She sounded sensible, but there was pain in her eyes.
Across the room, the door opened. ‘I believe you’ll find her in here, sir,’ said a clerk as a gentleman entered. He was smartly dressed and had that confident air the well-to-do were born with.
‘Naomi, there you are. They tell me the matter is finished. Are you ready to go?’
Belinda’s lips parted on a minuscule intake of breath. The man she married when the fiancé she loved didn’t come home. Did she now love her husband?
Mrs Reed turned to him. ‘Mason – yes, I’m ready. Let me introduce you to Gabriel Linkworth, the… the man I came here to identify. Mr Linkworth’ – and she blushed: was it difficult not to use his first name? – ‘this is my husband, Mason Reed.’
Mr Reed strode across as if the room belonged to him, and shook hands. ‘How do you do? I was sorry to hear of the trouble you’re having with your memory. I hope today’s case will help you get on with your life. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a train to catch.’
To Mrs Reed, Mr Linkworth said, ‘Thank you – again.’ He bowed his head to her, making no attempt to shake hands, but she offered hers and he took it. Then he raised it to his lips and dropped a kiss on her fingers.
Belinda’s heart swelled with indignation. The inside of her chest burned.
She did like Gabriel Linkworth in that way after all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
BELINDA DIDN’T SLEEP. Hell’s bells, how had this happened? It was barely five minutes since she had been in thrall to Richard Carson and now her heart was beating faster at the thought of Gabriel Linkworth. But it was different this time. She hadn’t really loved Richard. Perhaps she had been in love with the idea of being in love. The recent changes in her life together with her first taste of independence had left her susceptible to his good looks and easy smile. Thank goodness she had kept her pash a secret.
It wasn’t like that with Gabriel. Far from
being dazzled at first sight, she had gradually learned to like and respect him. After being deliberately put off him by Richard, she had found out for herself that he was a decent man, who treated others with honesty and consideration. There was, whatever Richard had tried to make her believe, nothing underhand in the way he had come into his inheritance. And then there was the way he had given up his claim to his father’s money, so as to leave it with Mrs Rawlins, who needed it. Would Richard have done that in his position? Not likely. Richard had been so keen to get his hands on his inheritance that he had ignored the proper procedure and hadn’t waited for probate.
But Gabriel was kind, hard-working and searingly honest about the difficulty of living without his memory.
Was she falling in love with him?
Oh, this was ridiculous. She twitched over onto her other side. If she could get comfortable, she might fall asleep. Some hope. Her mind was wide awake, as were her senses. Naomi Reed’s perfume was lodged in her nostrils. Could Gabriel smell it as well? Was he lying awake at this moment, tortured by thoughts of the woman who ought to have been Naomi Linkworth?
She swung out of bed and planted her feet on the floor. Might as well get up and make a start downstairs. She poured water from her jug into the china bowl. Would Sarah soon be sharing this room with her? She wanted the best for Sarah, she truly did. She loved her sister and enjoyed her company, regarding her as a friend. But having her here in End Cottage, while it might be best for Sarah, didn’t feel like the best thing for herself. What might it do to her chances of having some independence? She already owed Auntie Enid and Grandma Beattie so much on her own account. She didn’t want to owe them on Sarah’s account as well. Was that ungrateful of her? Selfish?
She raked out the ashes, scooping them into the dustpan before hurrying outside to pour them into the box of earth and ashes they used to keep down the smell in the earth-closet. It was a fine morning, bright and cool. She wouldn’t see Gabriel again until Monday. All these weeks she had rejoiced in not working on Saturdays, and now she would gladly go to the shop today. Not that she would be able to, even if that option was open to her. She must get the boys sorted out.
Would they have found work for themselves? Mikey would have, assuming anyone would take Thad Layton’s brother. Would Thad have made an effort? She doubted it. Let alone he had a dodgy reputation, she could imagine him digging his heels in simply because it was her doing the asking. As for Jacob, he would copy Thad, more’s the pity. He would do better to follow in Mikey’s footsteps.
Grandma Beattie came downstairs, delighted to find the early morning jobs – raking out and making up the range, polishing the boots and cleaning the step – had already been attended to. Auntie Enid followed a minute later.
‘Sit down,’ said Belinda. ‘I’ve made eggy bread.’
‘That’ll stick to us ribs,’ said Grandma Beattie approvingly.
‘Are you going to the library this morning?’ asked Auntie Enid.
‘Yes, then I’m going round to Mum’s. I told the boys they have to get jobs.’
‘Aye, it’s hard when the breadwinner is out of work.’
‘Maybe the place that gave your dad a few hours will tek him on properly,’ said Grandma Beattie.
Full time at the Bucket of Blood? Mum would die of shame and Belinda wouldn’t be far behind.
‘Will you be seeing your Sarah this morning?’ asked Auntie Enid.
‘I don’t know. She might be at work.’ At least she hoped so. Anything to postpone having to make the offer of a new home. She was a rotten sister as well as a rotten daughter- and granddaughter-in-law.
After breakfast she washed up, then set off to change her library books before going to Cromwell Street to tackle the boys. As she stepped through the empty gateway, a movement at the window drew her eye; and just before she reached the front door, it was thrown open and Thad practically knocked her off her feet as he barged past, followed by a whooping Jacob. Belinda staggered but snatched hold of Jacob’s collar, jerking him to a halt. He wriggled but she held on with both hands.
‘Thad!’ he yelled.
Thad was halfway up the road. He stopped and turned, roaring with laughter at the sight, then he was on his way again.
‘He’s not going to rescue you.’ Belinda gave Jacob a shake. ‘That shows what he thinks of you.’
She pushed him inside. Muttering rude comments, Jacob slouched into their kitchen-sitting room; Belinda stayed right behind him in case he intended to make a dash for freedom. Dad was in the armchair as usual; Mum was drooping over the range.
‘Mr Harvey gave me a reference,’ said Mikey, ‘but it hasn’t made any odds. I’ve been after a couple of half-time jobs, but they were given to boys whose brothers haven’t gone to the bad.’
‘Don’t talk about our Thad like that,’ said Jacob.
‘Shut it, pipsqueak,’ Mikey retorted. ‘Thad isn’t here to protect you now.’
‘No fighting: I haven’t got time,’ said Belinda. ‘I said if you didn’t get jobs, I’d do it for you.’
‘Not for me, you won’t,’ said Jacob.
She swung round to confront him. ‘Grow up, Jacob. This family is in trouble. Dad hasn’t got regular work any more. There’s what he can bring in, plus what Sarah, George and I cough up. Give me one good reason why I should help support a snotty little brat like you.’
‘Because it’s your duty, miss, that’s why,’ said Dad. ‘I let you move out and live with them Sloan women, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t obligated to your family no more.’
‘See,’ Jacob sneered in exactly the way Thad would have done.
Thanks for the support, Dad. ‘Jacob, listen. There’s less money coming in. The rent has to be paid without delay, so that means other things have to be cut back. Do you fancy having less to eat because there’s not enough money?’
‘I’m not having less on my plate, I can tell you that for nothing,’ Dad blustered. ‘I’m the breadwinner and I’m entitled.’
Belinda raised her eyebrows at Jacob. ‘There are kids in your class who sit at the table and watch their dad eating the one proper meal there is. Do you want to be one of them? If not, you need to help out.’
Mum looked round. ‘What a thing to say, our Bel. We’re not like that. We may have come down in the world compared to where we once were, but we’re nowhere near that low. How dare you?’
Belinda closed her eyes. How was she supposed to make Jacob fall into line if their parents undermined everything she said? She opened her eyes. Jacob was about to speak, but she beat him to it.
‘If Thad’s name crosses your lips, so help me, I’ll clock you one. You’re a sheep, Jacob Layton, and you’ve made a poor choice of who to follow. Now put your cap on and come with me. You too, Mikey, and bring your letter from Mr Harvey.’
Ten minutes later, they were outside the newsagent’s on the corner near the library. Belinda indicated a notice in the window.
‘They want paper-boys. You can do that, Jacob, and if there are extra errands that need running, you can do that an’ all.’
Jacob assumed a bored expression, looking away with a loud sigh. ‘You can’t make me.’
‘Oh, but I can.’ Instinct urged her to stand up straight, the picture of authority, but Jacob was accustomed to taking orders from Thad, with his cocky slouch and taunting sneer, so she shifted her weight onto one hip, dropped her shoulders into a don’t-care attitude and plastered a look of amusement on her face. ‘Either you take this job and do it properly or else I’ll take you to live at End Cottage. Dad won’t care and I’ll tell Mum she’ll have one less mouth to feed.’
‘Thad won’t let you.’
‘Don’t kid yourself. He’ll be too busy relishing having one less pair of arms and legs crammed into the bed.’ Catching the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, she pushed her advantage. ‘At End Cottage, you can sleep on the floor beside the range and you’ll have jobs to do before and after school. Auntie Enid and Grandma Beatt
ie won’t put up with any nonsense. They’ll see it as their Christian duty to turn you into an upright citizen.’
Jacob’s expression changed from bored to sulky. Grabbing his arm, she propelled him into the shop, putting on her best smile for the tired-looking man behind the counter as she explained why they had come.
‘…and before you ask, yes, he is Thad Layton’s brother, but we have an understanding, me and Jacob, and he’s willing to work hard – aren’t you?’ She dealt him a sharp dig with her elbow.
‘Ow. Aye, I mean yes.’
‘You say “Yes, sir,” when you’re talking to your employer,’ said Belinda.
‘Yes, sir,’ Jacob muttered.
‘I’ll pop in every few days to make sure you have no complaints, Mr Eccles,’ said Belinda, ‘but I’m sure there won’t be any. Jacob is turning over a new leaf.’ She felt a bright warmth inside: success! ‘Right, I’ll leave you to hear about your duties, Jacob.’
‘That was impressive,’ said Mikey as they left the shop.
‘Not really. He’s just a silly boy. Now, if I could strong-arm Thad into toeing the line, that would be impressive.’
Mikey laughed. ‘Where are we going? Have you found me summat?’
‘I hope so. It’s in Chorlton.’
‘Chorlton! I’d never get there in time.’
‘You’ll have to. The half-timers have their dinner dead on midday. Then you’ll have to run.’
‘But—’
‘It’s one thing to get Jacob taken on as a local paper-boy, but half-time posts are more important. You aren’t going to get one near home. You know that.’
Mikey nodded. ‘I’ll do whatever I have to.’
When they reached Chorlton, Belinda took him along Beech Road, past Tyrell’s Books and along to the stationer’s.
