‘What’s brought you to this state? You’re a priest. I thought you had set aside violence from your life?’ The unaccustomed sense of moral superiority felt good for a moment.
Sean laughed. The laughter must have caused him pain and it showed briefly in his expression. ‘Save your pity for my opponents. Sure it’s them who are after having grazed knuckles and bruised toes this morning.’
‘Who did this?’ James asked.
Sean’s tone changed, as though he had left behind all memory of himself as the smiling Irish priest. ‘I was set on by a gang last night down in Avon Street.’
‘But why?’ James asked. ‘Did they not know that you are a man of the cloth? Or was that reason enough, because you are a Catholic priest?’
‘So many questions, James; let me catch my breath,’ Sean sat, looking blankly around the room, his eyes halting only for a moment on the pile of papers on the desk. Then, slowly, the anger began to assert itself in his features. ‘This was not the work of your anti-Catholics. It was done on the orders of a man by the name of Caine. A man rightly called after his biblical namesake.’
‘But what has he against you?’ James asked.
‘He controls a gang of thieves in Avon Street. Caine lends money and when people can’t pay, he has them beaten, until they do pay, and pay, and pay again. He’s driven all the other money lenders out.’ His anger had grown now, and was all too clear in his voice.
‘But what has this Caine to do with you? Have you been borrowing money?’ James asked.
‘No, but my parishioners borrow from him. The street sellers borrow to buy their stock, the homeless borrow for a night’s lodgings and the hungry borrow to survive. He traps them in a snare of debt and no matter how much they repay, they always end owing more.’ He hesitated for a moment, his face showing a growing sadness. ‘One of my parishioners, a man called Thomas Hunt, owed Caine money and he couldn’t pay. His wife tried to steal from a shop; I suppose to pay the debt. But she was caught. On Sunday last he drowned himself, and his young daughter with him.’
‘I know of this. In fact I had intended to ask you if you knew what drove him to it, though surely now he is beyond the concern of the Catholic Church. He has committed two mortal sins, in taking his own life, and murdering his daughter. Is he not therefore excommunicated and destined for hell in the eyes of your church?’
‘I cannot forgive these terrible sins, but I trust my God has greater understanding and mercy than his church. Besides I knew Thomas Hunt and though his crimes were terrible, yet he was not a bad man at heart. He’d had no regular work for almost a year and taken up the drinking when he had a spare penny or two. “Only once in a while, faither,” he would say to me, but I knew that when he drank, he drank fit to drown his soul.’
‘How did he survive?’ James asked.
‘He took what work he could find, as did his wife, and they scavenged and bought and sold, until they had sold all they had, and then they borrowed, and I suppose they stole. He came to me days before his death, asking to borrow four pounds to pay off his debts. I said I had no money, but I could have found it somewhere. In truth I thought he would drink it away. I had judged him already. I could have helped him, and instead I did nothing.’
‘You were not to know what was in his mind,’ James said.
‘I had neither faith, nor charity and I took away his hope,’ Sean replied, ‘and for that I deserve no forgiveness.’
James smiled, hoping to give reassurance, to show understanding. ‘My friend Dr Wetherby gave evidence at the Coroner’s Court. I promised him that I would seek out Hunt’s wife and represent her. He was very upset by the deaths. I believe that with the right magistrates I could free her from prison. In fact I trust that with a little persuasion the shop she stole from might be persuaded not to proceed with the case.’
‘You’ve good intentions, James,’ Sean said, ‘but Imelda Hunt isn’t in prison. She’s been committed to the mental asylum for women. When she was taken to identify the bodies, it destroyed her mind. She’s lost her tongue, doesn’t speak any more; sits all day with a blanket bundled up in her arms, as though it were her child, rocking it to and fro. If the blanket is taken away from her, she picks at her arms, with her fingernails, until she draws blood. Then they have to tie her to her bed. I visit her, but as yet she doesn’t recognise me, or even acknowledge my presence.’
‘It is beyond imagining,’ James said, ‘I hope you can help her.’ He paused watching the emotion on his friend’s face, knowing that the priest understood the woman’s pain all too well and even shared it with her. ‘But why did Caine attack you?’
‘For months I’ve been preaching to my congregation not to borrow from Caine. I’ve actually named the man in my sermons. I said I would set up a Friendly Society, help them to pay off their debts. It would be somewhere they could save when times were better and borrow in bad times. No one seemed to listen until now, until they saw what Tom Hunt was driven to. But now they are asking me to set up the Society and it is a promise I do not know how to keep. The people have no money to put in and I have none to start it, but for all Caine knows it already exists.’ Sean looked at him, his eyes imploring.
‘How can you be sure it was this man, Caine?’ James asked, trying to ignore the request implicit in the priest’s words and eyes.
‘I recognised his men. Word had obviously reached Caine of what I proposed, so he did this to warn me, but it will not stop me. I will not let him win. I owe it to Tom Hunt and his daughter. My only concern is that the people will take the law into their own hands. I have put about the word that I was robbed and recognised no one. You know what would happen if they ever took to the streets of Bath?’
‘Of course,’ James replied. ‘The troops would be called in, at the first sign of unrest. The authorities would like nothing better than to find an excuse to drive the Irish from Bath, now they are no longer needed for the railway. But aren’t you afraid for yourself?’
‘I’d be a fool if I wasn’t,’ Sean said, ‘but you more than anyone know what I think of bullies,’
‘That I do, and I helped you once when the odds were against you,’ James said. ‘Is there anything I can do now?’
Sean’s expression suddenly changed and James saw the distant judging face of a priest again. ‘Your brother Michael asked me to visit you and explain what’s happening on the estate. It is so long since you’ve been in Ireland. It’s as though you are ashamed of where you come from. You’ve read Michael’s letter, I take it?’
James bristled, felt the condemnation building for the coming sermon. ‘I’ve read the letter and read it again, and I still cannot truly accept its contents. I knew the famine in Ireland was bad, but Michael had always written that the estate was not as badly affected as others. He said that my father’s investments were still producing income sufficient for my annuity and to see them through the worst of times.’
‘You’re neither stupid nor uncaring, James. You never return to Ireland, but you knew what was happening. In the last four years, the country has lost a quarter of its population. A million people have migrated with only the clothes they wore, to whatever country will have them. Another million have died of starvation and disease. These are not just numbers, they are men, and women, and children with souls. They are not even strangers. Sure, you even knew some of those who’ve died, and yet you choose to think it was someone else’s problem! Why do you think there are so many Irish now in Bath and Bristol?’
‘But the newspapers each month said that the next year would see a recovery and that thousands of pounds were being raised through charity and the Poor Laws to help those who needed it. I’ve even contributed myself. Michael kept writing that he was replanting and investing and helping the tenants, and that I should not be too concerned.’ In his heart he knew he had believed what he wanted to believe, hiding from the truth, hunting out every diversion that life offered.
‘And each year you received your annuity and thought, if I am fine, then
the rest of the world must be fine.’ Sean stood and began pacing around the room gesticulating as he spoke. ‘I’ve seen glimpses of hell on earth in Ireland, stood on hilltops and felt sick from the stench of potatoes rotting in the fields, in every direction. I’ve mouthed prayers over open famine pits, as they threw in the bodies, one on top of another; men and women and children together, with no names on their graves. If the tenants farm as little as half an acre of land, then they get no assistance from your Poor Laws – so they leave their farms so that their children will be fed in the Poor House and then the landlords rip the roofs from the houses, so that they can never return.’
James read Sean’s feelings in his face; saw the scenes he painted in his mind. He knew that he had chosen to ignore what was happening. ‘But Michael would not do such a thing,’ he said.
‘No, Michael could not do that to people he has known since he was a child, but soon he will have no choice. Few of the tenants have paid rent these last four years.’
‘Why didn’t Michael tell me this earlier? Why did he not ask for help?’
Sean sat again, a little more composed. ‘And did you ask him if he needed help? Isn’t he the eldest, the inheritor and doesn’t he feel that responsibility like a boulder tied around his neck?’
‘When he wrote, Michael said that my annuity would be delayed this year. I will return part of it to him when it is paid.’
‘That’s not the whole truth,’ Sean said, hesitating. ‘That’s why he asked me to call on you, before you replied. Michael is distraught. There is no more capital. Your father’s investments have long gone, swallowed by debts and your brother’s compassion for others. All that is left is the house and the land. If you want your annuity this year, then land will have to be sold and more will follow until the estate is gone and the tenants with it. The choice is yours.’
A thousand thoughts spun through James’ mind. The investments were supposed to remain in place to provide for him, and now they were gone. Yet he had half suspected as much, when he had received the letter. Outwardly he fought to keep control, to show not the slightest muscle twitch of emotion, to reveal nothing of his feelings, yet his mind was in turmoil.
‘You must understand that Michael had no choice,’ Sean said.
‘Then tell him to keep the annuity and the land.’
Sean glared, seeming now to direct all his anger at him. ‘Don’t you dare to be resentful, when Michael needs your understanding. Go to Ireland and help him!’
‘Tell him he has my understanding. He is my brother and I forgive him. In fact I should have done exactly the same. But as to help, I do not have the ability to help him now,’ James said. ‘I have things to do here in Bath, and besides the estate is his responsibility.’
‘You’ve turned your back on your God, your country, and now your brother, and what have you put in their place, other than your self?’
‘What can I do to help?’ James asked.
‘If you won’t go to him, then send money. With all that you earn and what you’ve received each year in the past, surely you have put money aside? Michael desperately needs your help to survive the year and plant again for the next season.’
‘Would that I could; I may be a solicitor, but I am hardly successful in the sense of business.’ The guilt was swallowing him again. He knew what money he had saved in the past, he had spent, or gambled away, over the last year or so. All he had now was the two hundred he had put aside and that he needed if he was to stand a chance of making good.
‘The year’s rent on this house falls due next month,’ he said, ‘and I have barely enough to cover the eighty pounds needed for that. I have little put aside.’ He thought again of the card game, it was his last chance to come through this and make amends. ‘But I have money coming to me in the near future and I will help as much as I am able then. I willingly forego the annuity, but I can do nothing else for now. I will serve Michael better by staying here in Bath.’
‘Then so be it. Will you at the very least write to Michael?’
‘I will write,’ James said, but the words felt hollow; what could he write? Money was all that would make any sort of difference. He thought of Michael having to sell the land and tasted the sense of loss that he would feel. They had, between them, betrayed their father; all that he had worked for throughout his life, lost in so few years after his death. He thought of the tenants – generations of the same families – now without a living, without food for their children, without a future. It was as though Sean had held a priestly mirror in front of him and forced him to see his sins.
‘I’ll be going now, James,’ Sean said, as he made for the door. ‘I’ve some work to do and then I have a message to return to Mr Caine. The people of Avon Street have suffered enough and I’ll not stand by and see them bullied out of what little hope they have left.’
‘You should not go alone,’ James said, ‘I will accompany you, if you’re willing to wait a little.’ He needed to do something, to bury his feelings in an act of contrition.
‘This is not your fight, James,’ Sean said, but his expression said more and James could tell that his offer had already been accepted. Perhaps a delay might even allow Sean’s rash temper to settle a little.
‘If it’s your fight then it’s mine,’ James replied. ‘Give me a chance to put things right between us. Let it be as it was … You may see from my desk that I have a great deal of work outstanding and there are some papers that I must complete this morning. But call for me after lunch and we will deliver the message to Mr Caine together. I am not who you think I have become.’
Chapter 9
As Belle entered the room, Jenny looked up momentarily from her seat by the worktable and then turned away, trying to hide her face, but Belle had already seen that she had been crying. Her first thought was that something had happened to Molly, but she was asleep in the middle of the bed and looked fine. ‘What’s happened?’ she whispered softly, as she walked over and placed a hand gently on Jenny’s shoulder.
‘The debt collectors came,’ Jenny said. ‘Most of the money I had left from selling the bonnets is gone … If only you had been here.’
‘But you had more than enough to pay them.’ Belle hugged her close for a few moments, and then sat her back down before fetching another chair and sitting opposite her. She leant forward and took Jenny’s hands in her own. ‘Calm yourself now and tell me what happened.’
‘It wasn’t Tommy and his brother,’ Jenny replied. ‘It was the man he warned me of, Jeb, and he was worse than Tommy described, a filthy pig of a man. He came in without knocking, and grabbed hold of Molly.’
‘My God,’ Belle exclaimed. ‘He didn’t hurt her did he?’
‘He sat on the bed and made her sit on his lap,’ Jenny said. ‘I could tell she was afraid, but I didn’t want her to see that I was, too. I told her to come to me, but he wouldn’t let her go. He kept stroking her hair with his filthy hands and saying what a pretty girl she was, but it was the way he said it.’ She hesitated for a moment, lost in her thoughts. ‘I told him that I had money, enough for the payment and more and he let her go and lay back on the bed, with his stinking clothes and muddy boots. Molly ran to me crying.’
‘At least he didn’t harm her,’ Belle said.
‘No, but the look in his eyes … ’ Jenny said. ‘I asked him how much he wanted. He didn’t answer at first. Then he told me not to worry about the money. He gave me this look and said, “We can come to an arrangement over payment, if you were to treat me nice. No one needs know.” Then he grinned and held his arms out to me.’
‘I’d have stuck the scissors in him,’ Belle interrupted.
‘I thought of it,’ Jenny replied, ‘but I wouldn’t have stood a chance against him, and besides Molly was watching all this … Then he said I could always work for him, said I could earn more in a couple of hours on my back than sewing all day.’
‘The pig!’ Belle said. ‘The filthy pig.’
‘I just
wanted him to go,’ Jenny sobbed. ‘However much it was. I said I’d pay him. I knew what payment was due and offered it to him, but he told me that he was a day late collecting, and that he’d have to charge me for that, and that the rates had gone up. In the end I gave him what he asked for though it was much more than was due.’
‘What did he do?’ Belle asked.
‘He took the money and left, said he’d be back next week and that I should think about his offer. I comforted Molly as best I could and eventually she fell asleep.’ Jenny looked Belle in the eyes. ‘There was more than enough there to cover the payment, he just pocketed the rest.’
‘This has to stop,’ Belle said. ‘Have we enough for the rent?’
‘Yes, it’s already paid, but I don’t know what we’ll do next week.’
‘I’ll sell my mother’s brooch and I want no arguing from you. Don’t worry,’ Belle said. ‘It should keep us going for a little while.’
‘In future I shall go to Caine’s house and pay on the day before it’s due. I will not have that man coming here again.’
‘But won’t that be dangerous?’ Belle asked.
‘No more dangerous than that man coming here,’ Jenny said.
❖ ❖ ❖
Sean set a rapid pace which James found difficult to match in the newly fallen snow, even with his cane to help his balance. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’ Sean said. ‘Do you remember all those years ago in school when those three lads had me cornered? It was yourself who came to my rescue then. I stood there wetting myself while you tore into them, howling like a banshee.’
James remembered what had happened as though it had been yesterday, the three lads backing Sean into a corner. On another day he might have ignored them, he thought, but his instincts had taken over. It was the look of terror on the young Sean’s face; the lack of mercy on the faces of his tormentors. ‘How could I forget it,’ he said. ‘But as I recall you gave a decent enough account of yourself once you got started.’ He smiled at Sean, feeling their friendship alive again, as though the intervening years had never happened.
Avon Street Page 7
