An Unbreakable Bond

by Mary Wood

  She dropped her head.

  After a moment she continued, her voice not much more than a whisper. ‘She’s only just on nine and . . . and they say they take them for the gentry. They say good money is paid for . . . for – oh God! Janey! Oh God!’

  Hattie shuddered as her own memories made her insides turn over. The bile rose in her throat, threatening to choke her. She heard herself spit out the word ‘No!’ But as she said it, she knew it was possible, and she knew too that it was something she could put down to Bobby Blackstaff. There was evil in that man – an evil that seeped through his pores and lived in his blackened soul.

  ‘You say it’s been on three weeks since she’s been gone?’

  Susan nodded.

  Hattie tried not to show it, but she felt that this was a hopeless quest. Three weeks was a long time to keep a child hidden, and if she’d served her purpose, she’d most likely be got rid of. It would be first pickings that would be of value. But she’d have to give hope to Susan, even if she thought that hope was in vain. ‘Look, I’ve a friend in the police. He’s a sergeant.’ She didn’t say he was more of a customer than a friend, but her thought was that she could use her knowledge of him to blackmail him into doing something. An upstanding figure in the community, he’d not want to risk anyone finding out about his association with her. ‘He’ll help, if I ask him. He probably knows of sommat.’

  ‘Oh God! Do you think you can find my Janey?’ Susan leaned over and took hold of Hattie’s hands.

  Hattie felt an overwhelming urge to take the woman in her arms and say she wouldn’t rest until she had found Janey. But fear that it was too late stopped her, so she just patted the woman’s hands.

  A glimmer of hope shone through Susan’s despair as she said, ‘I trust you, lass, I trust you. I’m sorry I called you them names. I know you’re one of them, but somehow I know as you’re not. Not really, not where it matters: in your heart. You’re not one of them in your heart.’

  ‘No, I’m not, Susan, and a lot of the other lassies aren’t, either. For most of us it were just circumstances that led us this way – but then, once someone like Bobby Blackstaff gets hold of you, you’re trapped. Come on: let’s get you home. I’ll walk with you, so I’ll know where to find you if I get to know owt.’

  Susan didn’t object, and Hattie held her arm for support as she rose. There was no flesh on her bones.

  ‘Here, lean on me, lass. I’ll get you home.’

  On the way Susan told her she had another child, Sally, just six years old, who was being looked after by a neighbour. ‘I’m afraid for her, Hattie. What if they come back?’

  ‘Don’t think on it, love. Sommat’ll be done to stop them, I promise.’

  ‘But what if they know I have another lass, and are watching me comings and goings? They’d know I leave her every morning to go to me shift!’

  ‘You mean she’s left on her own?’

  ‘Aye. I have a fear in me and I wish it were different, but if I don’t work we’ll starve.’

  ‘Look, you said you’re on early shift – that’s six while ten, isn’t it? I could come over and watch out for her. I don’t go on me patch until two-ish, unless Bobby Blackstaff has someone lined up for me earlier. But it’s never afore twelve.’

  Susan was quiet for a long time.

  Hattie sighed. ‘It’s all right. I know how you’re thinking. After all, I really could be the one befriending young ’uns. You’ve no way of knowing for sure; you’ve only just met me. Don’t take on about it. I’ll get on with asking around and I’ll talk to Sergeant Jackson. I’ll come back as soon—’

  ‘No, no, it isn’t that. I do trust you and I don’t think – well, to be honest I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘I know, love.’

  They had reached a row of cottages and had stopped at the steps of one of them when Susan said, ‘I’ve a picture of Janey. It’s just the one. Tallyman took it on her Communion day. I can show it to you if you have time? Only, if you know what she looks like, then you’ll recognize her if you see her.’

  The picture caught at Hattie’s heart. The golden-haired little girl smiling out at her looked like an angel in her white veil and with her hands clasped as if in prayer. Hatred surged up in Hattie for Bobby Blackstaff and his cronies, and she vowed she would do all she could to try to stop their evil game.

  The sound of Susan’s sobs brought Hattie’s attention back to her, and she put an arm around her and held her. She had no words that would help.

  The click of the back gate opening brought Susan up sharply. She took herself from Hattie’s arms, grabbed a piece of towelling from over the rail above the fire and used it to rub her eyes. No sooner had she done so than the door opened.

  ‘I see you’re back then, Sue. Any luck, lass?’

  ‘No, Vera. Well, not luck as such, though I’ve met up with Hattie here and she’s going to help me. Hattie, this is me mate Vera. She’s been helping me search for Sally.’

  Vera looked from one to the other.

  ‘Aye, I know what I am; there’s no need to look at me like that. Like I said to Susan here, a whore I am, and not of me choosing, but a child-snatcher and murderer I’m not. I knew nowt of young ’uns going missing, but now that I do, I’ll not rest till those responsible are caught, and I have more chance of doing sommat about it than all of you have.’

  ‘Well, I beg your pardon, but I were just shocked to see you in here, seeing as how it’s one of your kind who had a hand in all this.’

  ‘I can understand that. I don’t blame you or Susan for not trusting me, but I’ll try to prove to you, as best I can, as to me motives being the same as yours. I’ll go now, Susan, but like I said, I’ll be in touch as soon as I know owt. Just think on: Sally will be safer having someone looking out for her, and I would do that, I promise.’

  ‘I’ve thought on and I’d be grateful, Hattie. Ta. I’m on shift every Monday to Friday morning, so if you could come tomorrow?’

  She’d no time to answer before the door, which had been left ajar, was pushed open and a head of fair curls popped round it. The child’s face mirrored the one in the picture, but this face wasn’t angelic; it was very cross. ‘Mam, you didn’t come for me! I saw you come down the road and waited and waited, and then Aunty Vera left me behind . . . Who’s this?’

  ‘Me name’s Hattie. What’s yours?’

  ‘Sally. Have you come about me sister?’

  ‘No. Well, not altogether. Me business is with you. I’m being interviewed by your mam. She’s thinking of taking me on to look out for you in the mornings.’

  ‘I don’t need no looking out for. I’m six and a half, thou knows! I can look out for meself!’

  ‘Sally! Don’t be so rude!’

  ‘It’s all right.’ Hattie laughed out loud. ‘She’s got the same spirit as I had at her age. I can see me and you are going to be mates, Sally. I like someone who can look out for themselves. It means they can look out for me an’ all.’

  ‘Do you need looking out for, then?’

  ‘Aye, I do. And I can’t think of anyone better to look out for me than you. How about I come for breakfast every morning when your mam goes to the mill?’

  ‘I’d like that. We could toast butties on the fire. Me mam says I’m not allowed to do it when she’s not here, but she’d let me if you were here. Won’t you, Mam? We have a long fork and . . .’

  ‘Aye, all right, Sally. That’s enough. Hattie knows how to make toast. Now, get out back and get swilled down under the tap ready for your tea, there’s a good lass.’

  Sally went to do as she was bid, but as she got to the door she turned and said, ‘Will you be here when I wake up in the morning? Only mornings are getting darker and me mam won’t let me light me candle. She says I have to keep me eyes shut until it gets light, but it never seems to get light and I don’t like the dark. Not when I’m on me own, I don’t.’

  Hattie laughed again, amused that the little one’s spirit wasn’t enou
gh to stop her being afraid of the dark. ‘That’s sommat else me and you are alike in, because I wasn’t for being on me own in the dark when I were a young ’un, either. I’ll be here, I promise. And I’m not afraid of owt, now I’m a grown-up.’

  Hattie thought over what had happened as she walked back to her patch. The sickening shock she’d felt still dwelled in the pit of her stomach. If she knew anything, the one who’d befriended the young ’uns was most likely to be Doreen.

  Doreen was known as Bobby Blackstaff’s woman, though he didn’t have real feelings for her or any other woman. Doreen was more for show – a cover for the real type he was. Or at least that was the rumour. He wasn’t above putting Doreen to work when it suited him, though. Being a beauty, she caught the eye of the fellas; and if the one who was asking could be of some service to Bobby, then she had to do his bidding.

  You could feel sorry for the lass in some ways, as it was clear she adored Bobby. But Doreen was a sly one. She kept her eye out for anything she could report back to him and was the cause of many a lass being beaten or even disappearing.

  Hattie’s thoughts turned to her stash; she was always fearful where that was concerned. Doreen had been watching her lately, turning up on her patch and hanging around her room. She’d have to be careful that she didn’t find out about Hattie looking out for Sally. Mind, Doreen was never about much before two-ish, on account of her ‘duties’, which is what she called the fact that she had to serve drinks and was at the beck and call of Bobby Blackstaff, and whoever he was playing cards with, until the early hours. It was rumoured that sometimes she was taken down by every bloke there, and in full view of the others! By, she’d been brought low at times, from what was said.

  Hattie sighed. Happen Doreen was more to be pitied than blamed, even though she lived far better than the rest of them. But if she was mixed up in this rotten business, she’d not get any pity! God, it didn’t bear thinking about.

  10

  Laura’s Loss

  The envelopes came on the same day, though not by the same method of delivery and not together. The regiment’s buff one, with the crest embossed on the bottom corner, came first, causing Laura’s heart to skip a beat. How often during these dark days of war had these letters from him lifted her gloominess and given her a sense of hope, whilst news filtered through of terrible losses in his regiment.

  But now, there was so much talk of ‘the last push’, and if it was successful the bloody war would be over, that she felt certain Jeremy was writing to say he was coming home. She didn’t take the letter to her room, as she was used to doing, but eagerly ripped it open as soon as she picked it out from the other post on the silver tray by her breakfast setting.

  Her eyes scanned over the words – there was no mention of the war’s progress or of when he would see her. But then, why had she expected there to be? She knew putting such things in letters was forbidden, in case they fell into enemy hands.

  The pages spoke of his love and how he missed her. He told her how much her letters meant to him and how they kept him going in the darkest moments, as did thoughts of her and of them together. ‘I hope it won’t be long now, my darling. I count the seconds with the beat of my heart, which is easy when I am thinking of you, because then it thuds so loudly.’ As she read this, she pressed the letter to her own heart and murmured, ‘Oh, Jeremy, Jeremy.’ His name was a whisper on her lips, but an agonizing pain of longing in her heart.

  Three and a half years had passed since she’d last seen him, and then they had had only two weeks together, as he had come home with the body of his commanding officer and had been promoted to command the regiment from that point on. She had begged him not to lead from the front, but had known that he would rise to the challenge, the thought of which had caused her to endure fear and agony every day, as well as the loneliness and longing of sleepless nights.

  Please, God, let it end soon, and please send him home to me safe and sound. The prayer had hardly died on her lips when Hamilton came into the room. Her heart plunged like a stone as she saw his expression and noted how the silver salver shook in his hand.

  ‘Wha . . . what is it, Hamilton?’

  ‘A – a telegram, Ma’am.’

  He lowered his hand. The brown envelope screamed the news she’d dreaded every day. The moment froze. The clock on the mantelshelf took over the space, its ticking taking her towards a life she didn’t want to face. ‘Killed in action’ . . . ‘Killed in action’ . . . ‘Killed’ . . . ‘Killed’ . . . The scream started low in her stomach and accompanied her into her blackness.

  ‘Lord and Lady Crompton are here, Ma’am. Shall I—’

  ‘Thank you, Hamilton. There is no need to stand on ceremony today.’ Hamilton turned and looked surprised that the guests had followed him through to the sitting room. He bowed his head to acknowledge Lady Crompton’s words, then turned sharply and left the room with an air of disapproval.

  ‘Laura. Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I . . .’

  ‘Yes, old thing, a bad business. Sorry we couldn’t get here sooner. Poor Jeremy, and poor you. What happened? Have they told you?’

  Laura looked helplessly from one to the other: her sister, distraught and lost, not knowing what to say or do; and Charles, her dear brother-in-law, uncomfortable, but trying to take some control. But how could he? How could anyone take control of this awful situation? ‘I haven’t heard anything. Just – just . . .’

  ‘Leave it with me, old thing. I’ll telephone George. He works in the War Office. He’ll find out all the facts and if . . . well, if they are bringing Jeremy home.’

  Daphne’s arms enveloped Laura. She sank into them, but the tight knot holding her together didn’t release. Would she ever be able to let it? The bitterness she’d battled with since the news had come in two days ago resurfaced. ‘Why Jeremy? Why? We had so much to look forward to. Why couldn’t it have been young Gary Ardbuckle? What use is he to anyone? But no, he’ll come back fit as a fiddle and—’

  ‘Laura, don’t talk like that! Don’t even think it. Gary – whoever – has a right to live, and I’m sure he is loved by someone. His mother . . .’

  ‘I know, but every young man who went from this village is safe, and for what? What do they have to give? Nothing! They only take, but Jeremy . . .’

  ‘Come on, old girl. You’re not thinking straight. It’s to be expected. Has your doctor been in to see you?’

  ‘I am thinking straight, Charles, and I don’t need a doctor.’ She lifted her head. Jeremy smiled down at her from the picture hanging on the wall between the long windows, and she drew strength from him. ‘I’ve been making plans. I want to start up the stud farm again, just as soon as this lot is officially over.’

  ‘But Laura!’

  ‘No, Daphne. I know you mean well, and God knows I’d like nothing more than to curl up in your arms and just cry and cry and be comforted by you, but that won’t help. I know from experience that it won’t. I need something to focus on. The stud is just the thing – it was when I lost my son, and it will be again.’

  Charles coughed. ‘Yes, my dear, you are right. It is a good idea for you to have something to occupy you, but I would have thought you have enough on your plate at the moment, and you will have to concentrate on selling off Hensal Grange Colliery and—’

  ‘No! Don’t even think about it, Charles. No, no! Jeremy would want me, more than anything, to hang on to the mine and the estate. But it isn’t enough. I have an excellent manager, as you know – the day-to-day running of the mine goes ahead without me, unlike in the old days when I was needed everywhere. Jeremy, with your help of course, had everything running so well that my involvement is only to oversee and make final decisions. As for the estate, I find that work tedious and will be grateful for any suggestions you can make regarding the running of it.’

  ‘All right, darling, but promise me you will give yourself some time. Come and stay a while with us until . . .’

  ‘Yes, Laura, you n
eed time and . . .’ Charles pulled at his moustache. ‘Look, I’d no intention of speaking to you about this yet, but as you are making plans I think I should. I’ve been thinking about your estate as a whole just lately and, I must admit, the possibility of what would be the best for you in this situation.’ Again he paused. Laura had seen the disapproving look Daphne had given him.

  ‘No, don’t stop him, Daphne. This is just what I need to talk about. It is all worrying me. I know that I’ve coped reasonably well, but it was meant to come to an end. It won’t now. I need to have a plan to enable me to face the future, because at least then I will be able to let go of the business worries and give myself the time you are right in saying I need. After all, the plans I have for the stud farm cannot take place just yet. Go on, Charles.’

  ‘Well, my dear, I can appoint an estate manager to take care of the day-to-day running of the affairs of the estate – the letting of properties, and the hiring and firing, that sort of thing. I could also oversee all of the business and make sure you are not cajoled into making any decisions you don’t really need to take. You know I have your best interests at heart.’

  ‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’

  ‘That’s settled, then. Leave it all to me. I have a young man in mind who will make a first-class estate manager, working as a mediator for the bank and the estate. He had great prospects before the war, but was badly injured. He needs a position that will be flexible, and an office in his own home. I was thinking maybe he could live in the gatehouse? I know it hasn’t been occupied for some time, but it wouldn’t take much fixing up. He has a young family, so that would be perfect. It means he will be near enough to you, if he needs to discuss anything with you.’