by Anna Jacobs
“Well, is it true?” he repeated impatiently.
“Is what true?” She spoke coldly, not helping him at all.
“That the barmy old bugger’s dead at last.”
“My husband’s dead, if that’s what you mean.”
He mimicked her accent. “Yes, that’s what I mean, your ladyship, an’ you bloody well know it, so stop playin’ games with me!” He made no pretence of civility. “How’d it happen? Mr Hallam wants to know.”
“Charlie died in his sleep – though I don’t know what that’s got to do with you, or with Mr Hallam, for that matter.”
He slapped a ham-like fist on the wall. “It’s got eight shillings a week to do with my employer, that’s what – the rent of this house an’ the money that old sod got paid every week. Disgustin’, that was! Stealin’ money from my employer. Anyway, it’s over now, an’ from today on, this house is on my rent roll, so it is my business. Mr Hallam says you can stay on here if you can pay the rent.”
Annie tried to pull her wits together.
“Well, are you staying or not?”
“I suppose so. For the moment, anyway.”
“Then that’ll be three shillings, payable in advance. Mr Hallam don’t allow no credit.”
“Three! But the rest of the street only pay two!”
“They did. Times is hard. Mr Hallam’s just had to put up the rents. Proper shame, it is, but that’s life. So it’s three shillings a week an’ plenty of folk ready to take the house if you don’t want it.” His eyes flickered over the furniture. “You’ve got some nice stuff here an’ you’ve got your sewing. You should be able to afford it all right.” He leered across at her. “An’ a good-looking woman like you will soon find someone else, someone who can give you a bit more fun than that barmy old sod. He hadn’t even got all his wits, he hadn’t, let alone what it takes to pleasure a woman.”
She ignored his insinuations. “All right, I’ll give you the money.” She took out the little purse in which she kept a bit of money for her day-to-day expenses, her reserves being carefully hidden in several places around the house.
A beefy hand shot out to grasp her wrist. “Of course, if you was a bit short, well, we could come to some little arrangement about the rent. I’m not a hard man to please.”
She tried to pull away, but the hand tightened on her arm and his other hand came up to squeeze her breast. It was like the nightmare of Fred Coxton suddenly coming back to life. She went rigid with shock and horror for a moment, and, taking this for acquiescence, Jim began to paw at her body. At this she screamed loudly and started to struggle like one demented. Sammy, outside, began to bark and growl and throw himself against the back door.
All at once the grip on her slackened and she was free. She staggered backwards and saw what had saved her. “Tom!” She began to sob in relief at the sight of her brother. “Oh, Tom!”
“Don’t you ever touch my sister again!” said Tom slowly and distinctly.
“You mind your own business, Gibson,” retorted Catterall, spitting on the floor. “If you an’ your dad want to stay on at the mill, it don’t do to cross me. Mr Hallam has a lot of faith in my judgement. He leaves things to me.”
Tom stood there, arms swinging loosely, ready to defend himself. “An’ if you want to walk the Rows safely at night, Jim Catterall, it don’t do to cross me,” he said softly, far too softly for a man with that look on his face. “I’ve got a lot of good friends and they don’t think much of you at all. They only need half an excuse to show you how they feel.”
Jim’s fist came up suddenly, but Tom was ready, ducking the blow easily and smashing the older and bigger man between the eyes. Annie winced at the dull smack of fists against flesh and moved as far out of their way as she could.
“You’re gettin’ soft, Jim Catterall!” taunted Tom. “Old an’ fat an’ soft!”
All hung in the balance for a moment, then Jim spat on the floor, wiped the blood from his face and stepped back. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said thickly to Annie. “We don’t want your sort in Mr Hallam’s houses. You can clear out – by tomorrow. An’ as for you,” he turned back to Tom, “you’d better watch yourself at nights! You’re not the only one with friends round here. An’ you can collect what’s owing you from the mill tomorrow, you an’ your father both.”
He trod heavily out of the house and slammed the door behind him, setting Sammy off barking again.
“The bastard!” said Tom. “The rotten bastard!”
Annie burst into tears and Tom patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “You sit down and I’ll brew you up a nice cup of tea. Widow Clegg told me about Charlie when I got home from work. Poor old bugger! An’ then that bastard comin’ round an’ pesterin’ you like that. I’ll fix him up good an’ proper one of these days. You see if I don’t!”
Annie was glad to sit there quietly for a few moments and let him fuss over her. As she sipped the strong sweet tea, however, she began to think clearly once again.
“I’m not going!” she declared abruptly, putting the empty cup down with a clatter.
“What?”
“I’m not going! Not leaving this house.”
Tom was surprised. “But I thought you wanted to get out. You were plannin’ to leave. You said so the other day.”
“I was, but that’s all changed now that Charlie’s dead. We’d be fools to try to start somewhere else, when we’re all set up here. And what’d we do with all the stuff?” She gestured outside at the crowded yard and lean-to, where old Sammy was lying quietly again in his corner. “I’m not going to give it away for nothing and we couldn’t move it by tomorrow. So I’m not leaving.” She sat there for a few minutes, lost in thought. “What time does Mr Hallam leave the mill?”
We, thought Tom jubilantly, she said ‘we’. “I dunno. Later than us lot. He always stays on to see things settled for the night. He doesn’t trust anyone since that big fire.”
“So he’ll be there now?”
“Probably. You can’t always tell.”
“Well, it’s worth a try.” She stood up and began to tidy her hair in the little mirror. “Yes, that’ll do. I won’t wash my face. I want it to look as if I’ve been crying.” She whisked a woollen shawl round her shoulders and tied a bonnet on her head. “You come with me, Tom, but keep in the background. Don’t say anything unless you have to, just try to look angry and upset.”
“Come where?” He was bewildered by this sudden activity.
“To see Mr Hallam, of course.”
“What for?”
“To ask if I can stay on.”
“It won’t do any good. Hallam’s a hard man. And he does what Catterall tells him to about his houses.”
“We’ll see. It’s still worth a try.”
She led the way down the street and round the corner into the mill. The watchman stopped them at the gate, but luck was on their side. Frederick Hallam had not yet left. After a short time, they saw him cross the yard to his office.
“Mr Hallam, sir!” called the watchman. “Some people to see you.”
“Tell them to come back in the morning.”
“Please! It’s very important!” begged Annie.
Hallam squinted across at them, saw that the speaker was a pretty young woman and decided that he could spare a few minutes. “Oh? very well. Send them over to my office in five minutes’ time, Bill. I’ve something to finish first.”
“Yes, sir.”
Five minutes later, they were knocking on the office door.
“Come.”
“He always says that,” whispered Tom. “Daft, isn’t it? Why can’t he say ‘Come in!’ like everyone else?”
“You shut up and let me do the talking.” Annie led the way in.
“Gibson! What do you want at this time of day?” Hallam grunted, not offering them a seat and looking bored. He was already regretting his generous impulse.
“My brother came with me to protect me,” said Annie. “It’s I who
wish to see you.”
“Protect you? From what? Do you think I try to ravish my millhands?” asked Hallam scornfully.
“I’m not one of your millhands,” said Annie, in the best imitation of Annabelle Lewis’s haughty tones that she could manage. “And although you may not attack women, one of your employees does and I was afraid that I might meet him here.”
Hallam looked first surprised, then puzzled. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. Gibson, get your sister a chair. She doesn’t look well.”
Annie sat down gratefully. “Thank you, Mr Hallam. I’m not usually prone to such weakness, but my husband died this morning and since then your rent agent has … has …” She managed to produce a credible sob and dabbed at her eyes.
“Catterall tried to molest her,” said Tom bluntly. “And if he touches her again, I’ll …”
“Tom, please!” Annie begged. She turned back to Mr Hallam. “When Tom stopped your Mr Catterall from – from attacking me, he told me to get out of my house by tomorrow and he told Tom that he and my father were dismissed from the mill.”
What a fascinating face, Hallam was thinking. Dress her in fine clothes and she’d be a real beauty. What does Catterall think he’s doing? He’d better be a bit more discreet in the future, and choose his fancy pieces more carefully. It doesn’t do to mix business and pleasure, not my business and his pleasure, anyway. I’m not going to lose good workers and rent money because some woman has said no to him.
Aloud he said, “You were quite right to come to me. It’s Mrs – er – Ashworth, isn’t it?” I remember her now, he was thinking. Saw her once or twice at the Lewis’s. Used to be Annabelle’s maid. That explains her fancy accent. Though why a good-looking young woman like her should have married an old wreck like Charlie Ashworth is beyond my comprehension. For the money, presumably, though five shillings a week isn’t much.
He abandoned speculation and spoke soothingly. “Catterall has obviously exceeded his authority. Of course you can stay on in Salem Street, Mrs Ashworth. Shall you be able to – er – manage?”
She gave him a smile tremulous with relief. “Oh, yes. I do some dressmaking, you know, and Tom’s going to leave the mill – at once, if it’s convenient to you – and he’s going to run Charlie’s business for me.”
Tom sucked in his breath, for nothing definite had been said about that yet. But it was what he wanted more than anything else. A grin crept over his face. Oh, yes, he would certainly take over Charlie’s business! It was an ill wind.
“But my father doesn’t know anything about this,” went on Annie. “If he loses his job, I don’t know what he’ll do. He has a family to support.”
“Did Catterall threaten your father’s job as well?”
“Yes, sir. It – it doesn’t seem fair, sir.”
I’m not having that! Hallam was thinking. Lose a good steady worker because he’s offended Catterall! That’s no way to run a business. “It most certainly isn’t fair,” he said in a kindly tone, “and I shall not countenance it for a moment, Mrs Ashworth. Catterall overstepped his authority there – he can be over-zealous sometimes. You have nothing to worry about in that respect, my dear lady. Your father’s job is quite safe.”
Tom had been listening in admiration, firmly resisting the temptation to smile at the sight of Annie playing the helpless female so convincingly.
“Thank you, sir,” murmured Annie. “I’m very grateful.”
Hallam turned to Tom. “So you want to leave the mill, eh, Gibson?”
“Yes, sir. It’s my big chance, you see, to set up in a business of my own.”
“I wish you luck. And you needn’t come in tomorrow, except to collect your pay. Your sister will no doubt be glad of your support at this unhappy time.”
“Thank you, sir.” The grin escaped Tom’s control and took over his face for a moment.
Annie stood up. “We won’t trespass upon your time any further, Mr Hallam. I know you’re a busy man, and I’m extremely grateful for your help.” She held her hand out to him across the desk and he found himself shaking it and escorting her to the door as if she were a lady and not a – well, what was she? He waited till they’d gone and then let a smile creep over his face. A sharp little piece, that’s what she was. Far too sharp to waste her time with an oaf like Catterall. He must keep an eye on her, see what she made of herself. He wouldn’t mind getting to know her better. Fascinating eyes and that glorious hair. She’d played her cards well coming straight to the master. Yes, she was a very sharp little piece. Why had he never noticed her around before?
When they got back, Tom grinned at his sister. “You did that well. Sounded just like a lady, you did. Had that old bastard eating out of your hand.”
“He knew exactly what I was doing. Did you see the way he was looking at me? It must just have amused him to play along today. He wasn’t concerned with the rights and wrongs of my case.” She shuddered. “I hated the way he looked at me!”
“Nay, you can’t blame him for looking. You’ve started making something of yourself and you’ll not stop fellows from admiring how you look.”
“I still hate it! If I didn’t need to look good for my business, I’d dress in ugly clothes and hide all my hair!”
“Now you are talking daft!” He ran his finger along the edge of the table with studied casualness. “Er – you did mean it, didn’t you?”
“Mean what?” She was still brooding over the inequities of life.
“Mean what you said about me runnin’ the business.”
“I meant it about you coming in and helping me to run the business. I took it for granted that with Charlie dead, you’d want to do that. Was I wrong?”
He sighed happily. “No, you were bloody right!” Then he eyed her sideways. “Er – wouldn’t it be better if I lived on the job, like? You’ll have enough room for me here, now, an’ it’ll save on lodgings money. Besides, you need a man around the place to protect you.”
She hesitated. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to live with Tom. He might start trying to boss her around and she wasn’t ever going to have anyone do that again. And she knew Tom; he’d be trying to introduce a few sharp practices – and she wasn’t having that, either! Then her common sense reasserted itself. He could only boss her around if she let him. Unconsciously she drew herself up to her full five feet two inches. She wouldn’t let him. She’d keep a tight hold on the reins.
He was frowning by this time. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want me to live here? It’d be a lot more convenient – an’ cheaper too.”
She smiled. “Yes, I do want you, Tom. I need you. But just as long as you realise that you won’t be in charge. I will.”
He relaxed again and grinned at her. “All right.”
“But are you sure you want to give up your job, Tom? Times are hard. People don’t know you. There won’t be the easy pickings Charlie used to find. They trusted him and felt sorry for him, too. They won’t feel sorry for you.”
“Nothin’s ever easy,” he said cynically. “Try workin’ in the mill. That’s not easy, either. An’ it fair drives you mad, all that noise an’ fluff. But if you’re workin’ for yourself an’ a good chance comes along, you’re free to grab it. There isn’t much chance of grabbin’ anythin’ when you’re stuck inside a bloody spinning shed. The only one that makes money in a mill is the master.”
“What do you want out of the business? We ought to settle that before you start.”
“Half the profits,” he said promptly. “I’ll earn it, I promise you. Wait and see. But I’m comin’ in as a full partner or I’m not comin’ in at all. Half’s fair. You can’t quarrel over that.”
She nodded. “All right. But I want to make one thing very clear right from the beginning. There are to be no sharp practices, no cheating, no dealing in stolen goods. Nothing like that!”
“Aw, come on, Annie. Everybody fiddles a bit. People are so stupid! You could get a lot more …”
“No!” Her tone was e
mphatic. “Cheating’s a short-sighted thing. I’ve worked hard to build up a reputation for treating people honestly, and poor old Charlie couldn’t have done anything else. People will always remember that I came from the Rows, but they’ll never be able to accuse me of anything worse than that. I learned early on, Tom, that you’ve got to be respectable. I’ve fought hard to keep my good name. If you do anything to spoil that for me, anything at all, you’re out – even if I have to ruin my own business to kick you out! I mean it! I’ve been planning things for a long time, thinking how the business will be years from now.”
He blinked at the vehemence in her tone. “I never thought of plannin’ for years ahead. I just thought of – well, makin’ as much money as you could, havin’ a better life than our dad’s got.”
“You don’t have to cheat to make money. And surely you want to go on making it?”
“Yes. I suppose so. All right, then. No funny business. But am I in as a partner?”
She relaxed and smiled at him. “Yes, you’re in. You can move in here tomorrow after the funeral, but you’ll have to share William’s room.”
Charlie’s funeral was an elaborate affair, for Salem Street. Annie did everything properly, out of gratitude for all that the kindly old man had done for her, and she hired a real hearse drawn by two black horses to carry the coffin to the chapel. She knew he would have loved that. Most people in the Rows borrowed a handcart to do this final service to their dead, but she was determined that Charlie should have a more stylish last ride.
Annie, Alice and Kathy worked late into the night to sew a black dress for her and a little black suit for William. They were sewing almost up to the minute the cursing men struggled down the stairs with the coffin. Women in the Rows couldn’t usually afford the extra expense of going into mourning, but Annie was different and she intended to show it. Staring into her mirror as she adjusted her bonnet and veil, she thought how well she looked in black. It might be a good thing to continue wearing it. Good for keeping men away from her and good for the business. She caught herself up guiltily. Fancy thinking of how she looked at a time like this!
