by Mary Wood
The clerk’s oily voice broke into her thoughts. ‘I take it you have a key? There is no point if you do not have a—’
‘I do.’
‘Well, I have to say I cannot give you access today. I need papers giving you the right to it. A will or some such from a solicitor . . .’
‘But my pappy was for telling me all I had to do was to give you the code. I do not have a will, neither is there one in existence.’
His stare at her outburst told of his disdain. ‘That may be how you do business in your little country, but here . . .’
‘Are you after being the manager?’
‘No.’
‘Then ’tis not for being your decision. Will you be getting the manager for me, please?’
Once again he faltered, and it seemed to her that he weighed her up and down before deciding. Then his chair scraped on the wooden floor as he rose and left the room.
When he’d gone, some of her strength left her. What was she to do now? Her pappy hadn’t been for thinking the whole thing through, but then he hadn’t expected to die when he set it up, either. If only he’d given her a note, something written down!
A large gentleman entered the room. His round face had a soft twinkle about it and his beady blue eyes looked at her in the way her grandpappy used to. ‘Now, young lady, what is this I hear about you not taking Rothergill’s word for the way our bank works and demanding I come from all the urgent business I have to attend to you?’
‘’Tis sorry that I am for being a nuisance, sir, but ’tis important I access the mon . . . the box me pappy left here. ’Tis holding what he intended to be me way of taking care of meself. Me mammy is . . . she died, and pappy left me and . . .’
‘You mean you have no one?’
‘I do have an aunt, but I am not for staying with them. Their ways are not . . . well, it is independent I intend to be . . .’
‘But you are a minor?’
‘I am, sir, but I have someone who is of age who will be a guardian to me. It is just as she isn’t of any means, and we need what has been left for me.’
‘Well, we are not saying you can’t have it, but we have to have everything legal. Now, don’t be afraid of that. It is a simple matter to a solicitor.’
‘But I’m not for having a solicitor.’
‘I can sort that out for you. He will interview you, and maybe contact someone from where you live. A priest or businessman who can verify your identity. He’ll maybe want the registration certificate of your birth, and the death certificate of each of your parents. Once he has done all of that, he will draw up an entitlement document for you.’
‘Will all of that be taking a long time?’
‘A few weeks, I imagine. Have you funds enough until then?’
‘I’m looking for work. I intend to stand on the corner of the market on Tuesday.’
‘You are a domestic?’
‘It isn’t that I have any experience, sir, as I have always worked at home. But me mammy showed me good house-wifery and taught me to cook, so I think I will fare well.’
A smile creased his puffy cheeks. Bridie liked him, and felt he was one man she could trust. She smiled back. He leaned back in the chair and studied her for a long minute. Her cheeks blushed under his gaze, but not from any discomfort as to his thoughts, just because she didn’t know where to look.
‘Have you had any experience with children?’
‘Only as it isn’t long since I was one, sir, so I have an understanding of their ways.’
‘Ha! I like you, Bridie O’Hara. Look, I am not promising anything, but my wife and I are in need of a nursery maid. Our two children are cared for by my own nanny, but she is ready to go out to grass.’
Bridie giggled at this.
‘Oh, we are taking care of her. She will stay on and oversee things for a while, but I think she will take to you, Bridie. And after she has taught you her ways and is happy with you, I am sure she will remain an advisor to you. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know what it is I should say. I just . . .’
‘Have you any references?’
‘No. Look, I . . . well, sir, me pappy did things – I don’t know what, but they were for trying to arrest him. As soon as me mammy drew her last breath, he took me away and brought me to England. On the way, he . . . he shot . . .’
‘Don’t distress yourself, Bridie. I think I know what happened. It was well reported in the Gazette.’
‘Oh. But it wasn’t after being my fault.’
‘No, I hadn’t thought that for a moment. I am sorry you had such a terrible ordeal, but now I have met you, I can see you are strong enough to recover from it. However, it is better it is in the open between us. Obviously I took an interest in the story, as I do of any concerning our clients. Your father was an unusual man in the run of things – not the kind of person who would normally come to us for a deposit box. Therefore his profile drew our attention.’
‘Are you for thinking the contents are—?’
‘It is none of our business what a man puts in his box. And whatever is in his is now yours, I am sure. But I am charged with keeping records that will stand up to audit, so we have to go through the proper channels before we can release it to you. In the meantime, I think if you would like to consider the domestic post we have available, then a trial few weeks would be the best basis, until your papers are in order. After that, both ourselves and you will know if you are suitable.’
‘There is one other thing I am for having on me mind, sir: my friend – the woman who was to act as me guardian – I cannot be for abandoning her. She . . . she is in the convent. She isn’t bad. Things were after happening to her, and now her family are not for taking her back. She’s like a prisoner.’
‘Tell me what you had in mind for her.’
‘I promised I’d be looking for work for us both, and when I found it, I would go and help her escape. And we’d take a cottage together, though that depended on how much it is I have. She is hard-working, so she is.’
His laughter disconcerted her. Was he thinking she was silly?
‘Oh dear, Bridie, never was there such a day as this. Here I was, working hard at a boring task, and in you pop demanding to see me, and before I know it I am offering you a job and listening to tales of kidnap.’ He wiped his eyes on a huge hanky that looked as though it would crack with the starch holding its corners from folding. ‘I’m beginning to think I’ve fallen into an adventure-story book.’
Bridie didn’t laugh. ‘But it is unhappy that she is. Some of the Sisters are kind, but others are for being nasty. And they can’t just release her, not without there being someone who will be taking the responsibility for her.’
‘Oh, to be young and to see things so simply! You not only think of doing it, but you tell a complete stranger of your intentions. Look, it seems I am in a tangle now, and one my good lady wife will berate me for, but I will try to help. Don’t do anything about getting your friend out. I will ask around and see if there is someone needing a maid and approach the convent. I am sure they will be only too happy to release her, once they know she has a position. I expect she has no references, either?’
‘No, she was only a young girl when she was put there, and it isn’t the way of the Sisters to give references. They think of the girls as sinners.’
‘I expect some of them are, though I know that some of them are victims, and it is sad that the sins of the men they come into contact with are put on their shoulders. But as I see it, the Sisters do their best in the circumstances and have no choice but to take all and sundry and try to treat them all the same. We raise a lot of funds to help them in their good work.’
Bridie decided not to argue with him. She didn’t really feel she could. The way he put it, she supposed most people would see it. From experience she knew differently, but then it was as if there was only one alternative to it – the workhouse – and Beth had told her the convent was better than that. Anyway, she felt
too happy about the fact that a possible solution for them both could come out of her encounter with this kind man, whose name she wasn’t yet for knowing.
As if reading her thoughts, he leant forward. ‘Well, Bridie O’Hara, I had better formally introduce myself. I am Mr Proctor. You already know I am the bank manager here. My house is in Birkdale. As I understand it, your aunt and uncle are at present charged with your care?’
‘I am staying with them, yes, sir.’
‘Then I think it only proper you talk over my proposition with them and you get their approval of it. Once you have done so, and if everything is all right with them, come back here tomorrow evening at 6 p.m. Bring your aunt with you, and I will take you both to meet my wife, and have you delivered home again. After that, if everything is in order, I will arrange for you to start your trial employment in my household. In the meantime, I need your address for the solicitor I will appoint to look into your affairs for you. I will send my clerk back in to take the details. Goodbye, Bridie, and it has been a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Sir, I am sorry to the heart of me to trouble you further, but ’tis feared I am as my uncle and aunt’s intentions towards me are not good. I have to sleep in the same room as them and when they thought I was asleep I heard a conversation . . .’
‘Oh, dear, what have I let myself in for?’
After he’d gone, Bridie sat back, unsure that she could take in all that had happened. Her cheeks blushed once more, as she realized she had told him so much, and how his attitude had changed towards her. He’d remained pleasant, but business-like. He’d given her the name of the solicitor and then taken ages to compose a letter, which he handed to her, saying, ‘Take this to the solicitor. His address is on the envelope. It will ensure you are able to keep your dealings with the bank a secret from your relatives. I am doing no wrong in that, as you are our client and our dealings are with you only. The solicitor will make an appointment with you, and you can both take it from there. He will probably get you to sign something giving him permission to receive your mail here. There is also need of a document with your authority to have us communicate through the solicitor about matters concerning you. On the other matter: I am sorry, but I cannot take you into my service without your aunt’s permission. I will hold the position, without advertising it, until a week after Christmas, to give you time to work out how to tell your aunt about it. Here is my address. You can come directly there to contact me. You may tell your aunt you saw the job advertised, if you don’t want to tell her where you met me. Now, Miss O’Hara, I must leave you, so please don’t put anything else on my shoulders. I don’t want to regret liking you and offering my help to you.’
Bridie felt a twinge of sadness as she left the bank. Somehow she had offended the nice Mr Proctor, but he was still willing to take her on. That bode well.
Everything went fine with the solicitor, but as she stood on his office step, ready to brave the cold once more and make her way home, she wondered how she would get her aunt to agree to her working and leaving the cottage. She shook her head, knowing the difficulty it would pose. Sure it was a powerful problem, but she would find a way. She had to.
It seemed that Bridie had only just fallen asleep when her aunt tried to wake her. She resisted for as long as she could. She wanted to stay snuggled up in the slumber that had finally come to her after hours of pondering how she would tell her aunt about her plans. With Christmas having passed and the New Year now on them, the vacancy would be advertised by now.
But her aunt persisted. ‘Come on, Bridie! Come on, love, you have to get out of your bed. Your uncle’s out the back on the lav, and he’ll want to settle near the fire when he comes in. I’m to go out for a while. Mr Bottomley likes a bit of scrag-end on a Sunday, and if I’m not among the first in the butcher’s on a Saturday morning, it is all taken, so it is.’
The click of the latch signalled that her aunt had given up trying to rouse her and had left. A fear of being alone with her uncle propelled Bridie from her bed. Grabbing her frock, she had it on over her shift in an instant and started to roll her bedding.
‘Where’s Jeannie?’
‘She’s gone to the butcher’s.’ Suddenly she found she wanted to discuss her intentions. ‘Mr Bottomley . . . I mean, Uncle George. I . . . I wanted to say, ’tis grateful I am to you for taking me in. And ’tis as you have no need to be worrying about me being a burden, as I am applying for a place in service.’
A look of shock passed over his face. ‘Have you talked to your Aunt Jeannie about this?’
‘No, I . . . I thought you would help me. I am not wanting to hurt her feelings, but I can’t be staying here. You are for having no room, and I am in the way and . . . and, well . . .’
His body flopped into a high-backed, wooden chair with worn-down arms. He sat a moment without speaking, then said, ‘Look, hun, there’s no need to go down that road for a while. Besides, your aunt thinks you have the means to help get a bigger place for us all. Is that the truth?’
‘I . . . I’m not for knowing. Me pappy wasn’t after telling me how much he put by for me.’
‘Well, I suggest you find out. I’ll get your aunt to take you to wherever it is Michael O’Hara put this stash for you and, if it’s enough, you’ve no problem, have you, hun?’ The softening of his voice set a familiar fear running through her. He pushed himself up out of the chair and moved towards her. ‘You’re a pretty little thing. How about you sort out paying for your keep in other ways, until you get your money?’
‘No!’ The shove she gave him had no more impact than if she had tried to push over a brick wall.
His nearness crushed her spirit. His hoarse laugh wafted foul breath over her, as he grabbed her hair and pulled her closer to him. So close that the sweat on him rubbed off onto her arm. In a gravelly voice he said, ‘You don’t have to fight, hun. I’m not going to hurt you. Your uncle’s entitled to some of what you gave to your dad, ain’t he?’
The feel of his hand cupping her breast and the rancid smell of him clawed at the fear in her. An image of her pappy, and what he did to her, filled her with a horror that ground a path of misery into her memory, but instead of giving into it and cowering at its intensity, she used it to give her strength to fight. It wasn’t for happening again! Never, never again!
Lifting her knee, she thrust it into George Bottomley’s groin. His pig-like squeal filled the room. His body doubled over. Foul words spat through his pain. A sweet satisfaction at the sound and the knowledge of her victory over him sucked the last of the horror out of her.
Without thinking where she would go, she knew she had to leave. Knew the blame would be hers. She snatched her coat from the peg behind the door and was down the path and by the gate before she managed to get her arms into the sleeves.
At the end of the street, a glance to the right gave her sight of her aunt leaning on a gate in conversation with a woman. This determined her direction. Taking her scarf from her pocket, she covered her hair and hurried as fast as she dared, so as not to draw attention to herself.
The strangeness of her surroundings and the feeling of being lost reignited the fear in her. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she gave them no release. She had to stay strong.
‘Hey, watch where you’re going, lass.’
The bump jolted her body and unsteadied her step. Strong hands gripped her arms.
‘Leave me alone.’
‘Well, that’s a good one. Me, leave you alone? You nearly knocked me reet off me legs.’
Bridie registered that his accent was like Beth’s, so different from the throaty Liverpool accent of George Bottomley. Hearing it conjured up Beth and put a longing in Bridie to have her friend here now. Looking up, she saw the man holding her was tall and dark-skinned. He had a tinge on him that she couldn’t recognize, but one she likened to the smell of peat burning. His smile lit his face and put a sparkle in his deep-blue eyes as he asked her, ‘Are you all reet, lass?’
�
��I . . . I’ll be after being fine. I just need some fresh air in me lungs.’
‘Well, you won’t get much of that around here. I’ve never smelt anything as foul as the air in this area. Me name’s Will Hadler. I’ve come across country from Sheffield the day. I just got off the train. I’m visiting me uncle.’
Bridie looked over her shoulder. The young man sounded friendly – and wasn’t the good Lord for knowing she had need of a friend right now – but it was also true that she’d to get as far away as she could, for she had to be sorting out what to do . . .
‘Is there owt as I can help you with, Miss . . . ?’
‘O’Hara. Bridie O’Hara. No, ’tis fine as I am. I just need to be on me way. I’ll be saying goodbye to you, Will. It is sorry I am, but I have to be leaving.’
Turning away from him, she ran as fast as she could. When she reached a narrow ginnel, she dived into it, stopping a moment to catch her breath and to peep around the corner to see if Will Hadler had gone on his way. He had. Something in her felt sorry about this, but she was after having too many worries to give thought to it.
The ginnel opened up to an alley, which led to a rough-ground area strewn with rubbish. She hurried towards a clump of bushes, thinking to hide in the shelter of them, to give her time to come up with what she should do.
A horse brayed. She stood still. The smell of burning wood came to her, sending her senses reeling back to Ireland and the travellers.
‘Who is it hiding in the bushes, then? Come out and show yourself! Let me see who it is I’m up against.’
Shock held her rigid. Seamus! It couldn’t be him!
‘Am I making meself heard, or do I have to take a shot at you?’
‘’Tis me, Bridie O’Hara. Oh, Seamus, ’tis me.’
‘Bridie, Bridie . . . I’m not for believing the ears or the eyes of me!’
Caught in his arms, breathing in the smell of him, dissolved all her problems. Wasn’t it as Seamus would look after her? He would be for knowing what she should do.
‘Well! ’Tis as fate has intervened for me and brought you to me, which saves me a lot of trouble,’ he said as he let her go.
