A Long Way from Heaven

by A Long Way from Heaven (retail) (epub)

  Rising suddenly from the bed she began to pull on her clothes as Roland watched her, sensing her shame. It was only now that he noticed the flawless body of yesterday had gone; tiny, silvery stretchmarks shone from the once sleek thighs and though her breasts were the same as he remembered them – full and firm – the nipples were darker; well-worn, he thought, from the mouths of the Irishman’s children. He watched her brush out her long hair and wind it up on top. Taking the hairpins she had held between her teeth she stabbed them roughly into place as if trying to punish herself for this betrayal.

  She was ready to go and waited expectantly. He got out of bed, exposing the naked, hairy body, and crossed the room to pick up his jacket. How did he give her the money without making her feel like a whore? He hesitated, feeling ridiculous in his nudity then, putting his jacket aside, he disappeared into another room where he rifled an escritoire for a pen. Returning to the bedroom he blew momentarily on the piece of paper in his hand before passing it to her.

  ‘Take this to my bank,’ he instructed. ‘They will give you the money.’

  There was a tinge of sadness in the smile she gave him. ‘How am I ever goin’ to repay you?’

  ‘Thomasin, Tommy,’ begged Roland. ‘Please do not make me feel more ashamed than I do already. There is no question of repayment. It was worth ten times that amount just to be with you again. Treat the money, if you will, as penance for my weakness.’

  She gave a sudden frown. ‘What’ll I tell Pat? He’s sure to ask where the money came from so quick.’

  Roland adjusted his clothing and inspected himself in the mirror. ‘Didn’t you say you were trying to find a post for your stepdaughter?’

  ‘Aye, but I’ve had no luck.’ Then she realised what he was suggesting. ‘Oh no, I can’t have her comin’ to work for you! What’ll yer wife say?’

  ‘Doubtless she will wonder at my sudden interest in the hiring of servants,’ he answered, ‘but I do not think she will take it unkindly that I took it upon myself to add to her staff and thereby her status. She is forever telling me what a fifth-rate establishment my home is.’ He turned away from the mirror. ‘You can tell your husband that your stepdaughter’s kind-hearted employer heard of his plight and decided to pay her yearly earnings in advance.’

  She was doubtful. ‘Good wages you pay, Roly.’

  ‘Naturally, my dear, I always pay well for services rendered.’ He smiled an apology as she blushed crimson. ‘I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You have certainly suffered enough degradation without my mindless quips. Now, about the child’s employment; shall we say the New Year? That would give you ample time to settle into a new life.’

  ‘The New Year it is then… an’ thank you, Roly.’ She followed him downstairs.

  ‘For what, Thomasin? For taking what you did not really want to give? I deserve not your thanks but your contempt. It would have been easy for me to give you that money without demanding your body in exchange, but alas I’m a weak wretch. Oh, your husband is a lucky man.’

  ‘Lucky?’ she laughed. ‘Is it lucky to be stuck in a filthy prison cell an’ to have yer wife beddin’ with another man?’

  ‘Not the former, I’ll agree, but to have a woman care about one so much that she would consider undertaking an act which she obviously found so repulsive is a state to be envied.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Oh dear, Roly, I never meant it to sound as though I found yer repulsive. You’re a good friend. I’m ever so grateful to yer for the money.’

  ‘Enough said, my dear.’ He pulled a watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘And now we really must part company, I have to get back to the castle…’ It sounded, he knew, as though now he had had his money’s worth he wanted to be rid of her, but the longer she stayed the harder it would be for him to say goodbye.

  ‘Aye, of course,’ said Thomasin hastily and opened the door. ‘Goodbye, Roly – an’ thanks again. I’ll never forget it.’ – Nor I you, my dear, thought Roland as he watched her trip lightly down the garden path. Nor I you.

  * * *

  Evening came and with it a quiet tapping at the door. Weary after spending the afternoon dashing about the city in the course of securing Patrick’s freedom, Thomasin looked imploringly at her parents.

  ‘Thee sit where y’are, lass,’ said William rising from his chair. ‘I’ll answer it.’

  ‘Let me in,’ hissed someone as he opened the door a crack and a figure brushed past him into the kitchen.

  ‘Oh no, this really is the limit!’ shrilled Hannah at the sight of their guest. ‘William, close that door immediately before anyone should see him.’

  ‘Well, the bad penny turns up again,’ scoffed Thomasin, her weariness diffused in her eagerness to damn him for his perfidy. ‘We thought we’d seen t’last o’ you.’

  John pretended to be hurt. ‘If that’s all t’welcome I get when I bring yer glad tidings I reckon I’ll go.’

  ‘Oh, aye,’ said Thomasin sarcastically. ‘An’ what tidings might they be then?’

  John delved into his pocket, brought out a purse and upturned it over the table to release a shower of glittering coins. ‘There y’are,’ he winked at William. ‘Never let it be said that John Thompson deserts his friends.’ He looked back at Thomasin, expectantly awaiting the kiss of gratitude.

  Which made his surprise all the greater when, instead of throwing her arms about him, Thomasin broke down and wept.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  The blinding sunlight seared his deprived eyes and Patrick raised a protective hand over them as he took a step into freedom. He caught at the prison wall to steady himself, for the lack of proper exercise and the confined space had made his limbs weak and uncooperative; but then a few home-cooked meals would soon remedy that and chase the pallor from his cheeks.

  The support of the wall became unnecessary as his brain became attuned to what was required of his legs and he set off again, this time with a jaunty spring to his step, racing to be free of that grim outer wall of the castle. Over and over, as he walked through the city streets, he relived in his mind that final court appearance; how the guard had ducked his head under the low lintel of the cell doorway to inform him that the debt had been paid and his Honour would likely decide that Patrick could be released if there was no further opposition. The hearing had been a formality. Patrick was now a free man.

  His journey to his father-in-law’s house was accompanied by a glowing current of gratitude for everyone who had been involved in his release. Thomasin had informed him on her last visit how kind everybody was being and how they had between them managed to raise nearly half the money towards cancelling the debt. He marvelled at how, in the space of one week, his wife had fulfilled her intent to gain his freedom; a remarkable feat, even for one so determined as Tommy. Thoughts of his wife produced an effusiveness that encompassed his whole being, making the streets endless in his longing to be home, to see her, hold her.

  When at last he reached his destination he paused just long enough in the street to smooth down his hair and flatten his grimy collar before approaching the Fenton house. His knock brought a swift response and Patrick made ready his smile at the sound of the latch being lifted.

  ‘Not today, thank you,’ said a well-known voice whose owner made to shut the door in his face, but Patrick placed an adroit boot between door and threshold.

  ‘John, you ould get!’ he cried as his friend flung open the door, guffawing at his practical joke and slapping the Irishman on the back. ‘Sure, I thought we’d seen the last o’ you. Jazers, this is a surprise!’

  ‘Nay, not you an’ all,’ replied John pushing him indoors. ‘Yer as bad as that wife o’ yours. I told her…’ John rambled on, telling Patrick of his actions since their last encounter, but Patrick had eyes and ears only for his wife who stood motionless in the doorway, smiling, almost shyly.

  They approached each other, yet neither dared to touch. John’s volubility fizzled out as he became aware that his presence was superfl
uous. He cleared his throat.

  ‘Aye, well, I’d best leave you two in peace. I’m sure yer must ’ave a lot to talk about. I’ll be back in about an hour.’

  ‘Make it two,’ said Patrick, without taking his eyes from his wife.

  John made a disrespectful sound and left.

  ‘Hello,’ murmured Thomasin softly, smiling up into his dear face.

  For answer he lifted one of his great hands, cupping the dome of her skull like a ripe russet apple and lowered his mouth to hers. The fruits of freedom were sweet.

  ‘God, I’ve missed ye, Tommy,’ he breathed, dropping his hands to the small of her back and crushing her body to his. ‘I thought I’d never get to hold ye like this again.’

  Thomasin uttered a little laughing sob and wiped away a tear of happiness, then removed his hands gently from her body. ‘You can hold me as much as you want,’ she promised. ‘But first, I hope yer won’t mind if I ask yer to ’ave a bath? Yer stink like a bag o’ ferrets.’

  He gave a bellicose laugh; the old Patrick. ‘That’s what I love about you, wife, you’re so romantic.’

  Her eyes never leaving him she dragged the tin bath in front of the fire and proceeded to fill it nearly to the brim with gallons of steaming water. She then began to help him off with his clothes, laughing at his protestations that somebody might come in.

  ‘Mother an’ Father’ve taken the children out for a walk. There’ll be nobody to disturb us for a good few hours yet.’

  He reclined in the luxury of it all, closing his eyes in ecstasy as she soaped and scrubbed him, kissed and petted his steam-dampened hair. He felt his body begin to respond to her ministrations, enjoying the hand that lingered below the water-line. Without opening his eyes he brought a dripping hand from the tub and placed it on her breast, leaving a sodden imprint on her dress. She held out a towel and he stood, the steaming water draining in rivulets over his thin body, until she wrapped the towel around him, gently patting him dry as she would a baby. His hair showered droplets onto her face as he bent to kiss her then, without further ado, they went upstairs.

  * * *

  Much, much later in the short time they found to talk, Thomasin told him how she had raised the money to pay the remainder of his debt. He was none too keen on taking Erin’s wages in advance, or come to that of her entering into service at all. Things could happen to a girl in that position – and what if she were to hate it? She would have no choice but to remain there until she had exchanged her services for the advanced wage.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Thomasin, snug in his arms. ‘I couldn’t think of any other way out. All I could see was you spendin’ the rest o’ yer life in gaol – an’ if you’re really opposed we can repay the money before she’s due to start in the New Year. The irony of it is that I wouldn’t’ve had to place her in service at all if John had arrived earlier with his contribution.’ — If only you knew the full irony of it, she thought bitterly.

  Patrick’s face split into a wide grin. He had been so happy to discover that his friend had not deserted him. ‘Aye, good old John. I feel so rotten about all the names I called him when I thought he’d left me to take the jug. An’ you did the right thing, Tommy,’ he squeezed her. ‘If I had the choice to make meself between staying in gaol an’ Erin going into service I know which I’d make. Besides,’ he propped himself on an elbow and began kissing her again, ‘’tis a damned good wage she’s getting. I think we’ll let her keep the job. It sounds a fine house to work for – an’ we’ll need John’s money to set up another home. I may just think about putting you into service an’ all.’

  Thomasin laughed, but inside her mind wept with the cruelty of John’s ill-timed coup. Her sacrifice had been for nothing. She placed a deterring hand over his face. ‘By, we’ll have to have this ’ere beard off, fuzzy-phyz. It’s wicked.’

  He flopped onto his back, wriggling his body into the comfortable, if narrow, bed, basking in the freshly-starched linen. ‘So, our friend’s staying here, is he? I wonder that Hannah would allow him into the house – me too, come to that.’

  Thomasin made a moue. ‘Right on both counts, I’m afraid. But I think yer’ll find she’s not as hard on yer as yer might imagine.’ Patrick looked at her questioningly. ‘Well, yer might say we had a little thunderstorm which helped to clear the air. As for John, we’ve compromised. He’s only stayin’ for a couple o’ nights till he can find lodgings.’

  ‘I wonder where he got the money from,’ mused Patrick. ‘Not by honest means, I’ll warrant.’

  ‘Does it matter, when it was intended to set you free?’ John had disclosed to Thomasin the source of the money, but she was too unsure of the reception this information would get from Patrick to pass it on to him. John’s disappearance had taken him only as far as the city of Leeds. There was little sense in trying to raise the money he needed on his own doorstep. It had not been easy, for the streets that he walked were filled with similar people trying to earn a living from thievery and deception. The only difference being that, while they were old hands at the game, he — despite his exploits in the past – was in an entirely new field. Even so, his silver tongue had helped him to achieve his aim without trespassing on their patches too much.

  That evening, in the time twixt tea and supper, the family, John included, discussed the need for Patrick and John to find employment.

  ‘Weil, I say we go ask Baxter for a job,’ proposed John to the others’ amazement.

  ‘You’re mad!’ exploded Patrick, though half-amused. ‘I don’t know how ye’ve got the nerve to face him.’

  ‘But it’s not as if he knows I pinched his bricks,’ argued John. ‘An’ after all I did put ’em back.’ A fact which still stung.

  ‘Granted,’ said his friend. ‘But he wasn’t too sympathetic to ye after your spell in hospital. What makes ye think he’ll be any more susceptible to your charm now?’

  ‘Aye, well, ’appen it were a soft idea,’ concluded John, folding his arms and looking decidedly sick. ‘But I can’t think what else to suggest other than cloggin’ it round all t’sites – an’ there’ll not be much doing at this time o’ year.’

  Thomasin decided that a pot of tea might make the grey matter more responsive and went to fill the kettle.

  ‘Aye, the answer to all our problems,’ said William, drawing on his pipe. ‘A nice cup o’ tea.’ He spoke to his wife. ‘If these lads don’t come up wi’ summat tha might have to tap them wealthy relatives o’ yourn for a loan.’ Hannah merely nodded, untypically moderate since her daughter’s outburst, yet still capable of summoning a riveting glare at Patrick’s next remark.

  ‘Well, if the worst comes to the worst,’ he joked, ‘we can always send Tommy out on the streets.’

  A cup crashed to the floor.

  ‘Steady on, lass,’ cried William. ‘Tha’s eatin’ us out of house an’ home, don’t be smashin’ all t’crockery an’ all.’ Thomasin affected a weak smile and stooped to pick up the shattered pieces. She threw a sidelong glance to see if anyone had noticed her discomfiture and was relieved to observe that the conversation had steered back to its original topic.

  ‘Ye know,’ said Patrick ruminatively, ‘I think ye were right about Baxter, John. Maybe we should pay him a visit. He’s not such a bad old stick.’ Here, Thomasin reminded him of past vilification. ‘Well, I know I’ve called him a few choice names,’ granted Patrick, ‘but sure, he might consent to help us. Anyway, we can but try.’

  * * *

  ‘I’ll say this for you, Thompson,’ said Baxter to John’s request for a letter of recommendation. ‘You weren’t at back o’ t’queue when it came to handing out cheek. You set up in business against me an’ now you’re asking for references. What happened to that partnership I heard about – didn’t last long, did it?’

  John dared not look at his friend for fear that Patrick was going to tell Baxter the truth. But even Patrick wasn’t that big a fool, answering simply, ‘We decided we weren’t cut out to be business
men, Mr Baxter.’

  The man nodded and reached for a sheet of paper, speaking as he wrote. ‘Well, you’ve both done good work for me in the past. I’ll not hold it against you that you set up as rivals.’ He folded the sheet and handed it to John. ‘I do hear they want a few men at Wilson & Franks – only temporary, mind. This should swing some weight for you.’

  The men thanked him and left, doffing caps, John hardly able to withold his laughter. ‘If only he knew,’ he cackled. ‘If only he knew about them bricks.’ He kissed the letter and waved it in the air, then gave Patrick a playful, but hefty, nudge, sending him hurtling into the road. Jeering, his ravaged face twisted in demoniacal amusement, he ran off hurling insults at his pal who leapt up and sprang at him, wrestling him to the ground.

  ‘Mind the bloody letter!’ shouted John as they rolled around in the dirt like a couple of schoolboys.

  Patrick laughed and struggled to stand, pulling John after him. It was odd that in his regained freedom he seemed to experience everything so much more acutely, as though in his happiness he wanted to laugh and shout and generally play the fool, as though acting the child somehow helped to take his mind off his sense of shame. Panting from his exertion he dusted himself down and asked, ‘Shall we go for a jar to celebrate?’

  But his query received no answer. John’s hand, which had been in the motion of sweeping back his untidy hair, stopped. Patrick followed his friend’s stare to see what had gained his interest and saw, halfway along Paver Lane, the brightly-coloured wagons, the grey spiral rising from the campfire.

  They were back.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  The fact that Patrick and John were good workers during their temporary employment paid dividends. On the recommendation of Wilson and Franks they found regular employment at another firm. As the festive season arrived Thomasin was able to tell her mother that, because of this, they hoped soon to be moving to accommodation of their own.