*
Over the next few days, Violet, unaware of the drama unfolding at home, fell into the ways of the Slater household easily; going to school with the clan. She missed her mother though and ached to see her. Martha explained it was too dangerous for her to return home especially now and she gave a sly wink. Violet wasn’t sure what this meant, but felt comforted nonetheless.
Violet had been assured she would return home to her mum once things had been sorted. Quite what ‘sorted’ meant was a mystery to her but she gleaned enough to know that when she did eventually go home – she would be safe.
Things were looking up at school too; Primrose Berry had stayed away from Violet, especially as Violet now had Nancy Slater on her side. The odd sly look from Primrose thwarted any action on her part by a raise of Violet’s finger in warning and a nod towards Nancy. Having been asked by a couple of the other kids why she was staying with the Slaters, Violet had told them in no uncertain terms to mind their own business! The less said the better as far as she was concerned and she settled into working hard at her studies.
Although young, Violet had seen the amount of poverty and unemployment in the town of Wednesbury and she had made up her mind to endeavour to make something of her life. She had no intention of working herself into her grave; she was going to ensure that her education would benefit her later in life, so it was up to her to study hard now.
Violet for the most part was happy with the Slaters, but her nightmares came and went, going swiftly on the occasions when Nancy’s feet collided with her head. Hearing Violet cry out in her dreams, Nancy would tap the girl’s head with her toe, enough to bring Violet from sleep into wakefulness. Strange as it seemed, Nancy’s feet were a real comfort to her in those dark hours of the night.
She did, however, live in dread of meeting Sligo on her way to and from school. Violet knew it was unlikely as the miners started work very early in the mornings, but she still kept a wary eye out in case he was late getting to work. John Sligo was not above giving any child a clip round the ear, so she kept her silent vigil on her journeys.
Violet couldn’t wait to return home to her mother… safely. She knew she was to stay with the Slaters for a week, but to Violet it seemed like an eternity.
Six
Charlie and Annie glanced at each other as Kath spluttered through her tears the events of the previous hours. ‘I was so angry with him Annie, and when he began to attack me… we fought. I pushed him hard. He fell backwards and hit his head on the fireplace and then… then… the blood, oh my God there was so much blood!’ She burst into tears again.
‘Right,’ Charlie said, grabbing his jacket, ‘I’ll go round to yours and take a look, Kath. Annie, you best fetch Geordie and Jim… just in case.’
Annie settled Kath with a cup of tea before saying, ‘I won’t be long. You stay there and rest.’
Returning, Annie explained that Martha and Mary would not be long in coming. Just as she finished her sentence, the back door opened and their friends rushed in.
Annie made fresh tea as the others moved to sit by the fire.
Martha sighed loudly through her nose when she saw Kath’s swollen face.
‘That bugger needs a hiding!’ Mary said sharply.
Kath tried to tell again about the fight at her house but she faltered. Annie took up the explanation, watching mouths drop open.
‘Oh God!’ Kath wailed. ‘I think I’ve killed him!’ She began to shake once more.
‘Now then,’ Annie soothed, ‘you’re still in shock.’
‘From what you said, it seems to me it was an accident,’ Martha said in her ever-present sensible manner. ‘You pushed him – right?’ Kath nodded. ‘He fell and banged his head on the hearth – yes?’ Another nod from Kath. ‘There you go then – an accident.’ Martha spread her hands, justifying her words.
But Kath began to fret that the police may not reach that same conclusion as her friends.
‘Well,’ Mary said, ‘if he is dead, we won’t need that meeting at the end of the week.’
‘Mary!’ Annie exclaimed.
‘What? I was only saying.’
*
It was past midnight when Charlie, Geordie and Jim arrived back at the house. Kath searched Charlie’s face for an answer to her unasked question.
Charlie sat down next to Kath and at his nod she burst into fresh tears. ‘I wanted rid of him, you all know that,’ Kath said between sobs, ‘but… I swear to God it was an accident!’
‘We know that, wench, don’t you upset yourself anymore,’ Martha said, trying to console her friend.
Suddenly jumping up, Kath said, ‘Oh Martha, I have to go. I have to get rid of the body! I have to find a place…’
Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder, pressing her gently back into her seat. ‘It’s all right, wench, he’s gone.’
‘I know, Charlie, but I have to move him, I need to find somewhere to dispose of…’ Kath was about to stand again.
‘Kath, he’s gone. We “walked” him down to the cut like he was a drunken sot. We were all singing and laughing so anyone who might have seen us would be none the wiser. Everyone knows how he was whilst drunk, it would be no surprise to anyone seeing him in that condition. Anyway, when we got to the cut, he sort of… fell in! After that we went back to your house and cleaned up the mess. You don’t have to worry, folk will think he fell down drunk and hit his head before falling in the canal and drowning.’
Kath let go of the breath she held and her eyes said her thanks to each of the men who had helped her that night.
Martha said, ‘Kath, my girl, best get your weeds out because in the eyes of the town this time tomorrow you’ll be a widow!’
*
On Saturday morning Violet returned home. She was horrified by the sight of her mother’s swollen face and black eye.
‘It’s all right sweetheart,’ Kath said, giving her daughter a hug. ‘We had a fight and now John’s… gone. He won’t be coming back – ever.’
Violent hugged her mother before she went happily to her room while Kath made tea for herself and Martha who had brought Violet home.
‘You all right girl?’ Martha asked.
Kath went to her, giving her a hug and saying quietly, ‘Never better, thanks to the Wives club and their husbands!’
*
The police found John Sligo floating in the canal a couple of days later. The bloated body was dragged out and hauled off. Enquiries by the police showed Sligo had been drinking heavily that night, celebrating his last day at the coal pit. For some reason they could not fathom, it seemed he’d taken the circuitous route home via the canal towing path. Unsteady on his feet due to the amount of beer he’d drunk, Sligo must have slipped and fallen in the canal. Unable to get out, he’d drowned.
The Coroner’s verdict – Accidental death.
The constable had visited to give Kath the news when Violet was at school and had asked why she had not reported him missing the last few days. Kath had told him that she and John had argued heatedly and she had told her husband to leave and never come back. Looking at her injuries, the constable accepted her statement and without further ado had left her to make arrangements for the funeral. Very few would attend, it was thought.
Whatever truly happened to John Sligo would remain a mystery, Violet thought. She had her suspicions especially when she had seen Martha leave the house so late. She had wondered where her mother’s friend was going at that time of night, although she realised she would probably never know. As for herself… she was glad he couldn’t come back to hurt her ever again, and she determined she would keep her counsel as to what she suspected may have happened to the man she hated beyond belief.
Kath’s money returned to her now she was a widow for the second time. She swore never to marry again and after her experiences Violet swore never to marry at all.
Seven
Violet grew into a beautiful young woman. She was watched over by her mother and the other
‘wives’ and all were very proud of the way she appeared to have pushed the Sligo incident behind her. They knew it would never truly be forgotten but, for the most part, Violet was happy. Only time would tell how the girl would cope if ever she had a beau.
Violet left school and searched for work, but none was to be found in the poverty-stricken town. Nevertheless she continued to look; she was determined to earn a wage and contribute to the household funds.
One day Kath called Violet in to have tea with the ‘wives’ who were settled around the kitchen table.
Martha said, ‘Come on in, Violet girl, and get a cup of tea down yer.’ Mary grinned at Martha taking charge as usual.
A strange feeling crept over Violet. Why was she being invited to join them? As she sat and listened to the talk around the table, all became clear.
Kath began to explain the mystery of the late John Sligo. ‘You are old enough now to know the truth,’ she said.
Violet nodded – she felt no remorse, although the old feeling of fear had made her shudder as she had listened to her mother’s words. Drawing in a deep breath, Violet said firmly. ‘That man ruined my life, spoiled any chance I have of marrying and having children of my own. His death was not your fault, mum, and I, for one, am not sorry about what happened to him!’
The women watched Violet closely as she showed no concern over the way Sligo had died. They then went on to explain about the exclusive club of the ‘Wednesbury Wives’. Martha explained the four women were there to help other women who had problems that needed solving; problems that the law couldn’t or wouldn’t ever find in favour of the women. It was a man’s world and women were there to fetch and carry, clean and raise the kids. Women had no rights. So, each time a woman came to them with a problem – they did their best to solve it.
Martha related about how it had all begun. She, Martha Slater, was a force to be reckoned with and she brooked no nonsense from anyone. She was respected by other women because of this and their men admired her confidence and tenacity. A threatened eviction had come to her ears years ago whilst chatting in the market. It was before Violet and Nancy were born, and she had intervened on behalf of the victim with her landlord. The landlord and Martha, with her reputation as a terrier, had come to an arrangement; he would allow the tenant extra time to pay rent owing and Martha would allow him extra time to continue to breathe! He had, albeit begrudgingly, admitted defeat. The woman she had helped had contacted Martha again after hearing of a friend who had a problem. This time, Martha had enlisted the help of her friends.
Mary, Kath, Annie and Martha had been friends since their first day at school. They had grown together, played, laughed and cried together over the following years. Their problems had been shared before being resolved and even without really realising it they began to help other women solve their problems. They had formed an exclusive club, a women’s version of the Masonic organisation.
The husbands had stayed in the background while they came together as an immovable force when faced with difficulty. Oh the men knew what the women were about but no questions were ever asked; no recriminations, in fact a little help was given here and there on occasions. The rest was left to their ‘Wednesbury Wives.’ Kath had never mentioned this to John for fear of his trying to put a stop to them helping other women.
Every woman who had her problem solved by the ‘Wives’ was sworn to secrecy and because she was free of her particular problem had no cause to speak of it to anyone else. Each case was taken on its merits and dealt with in complete confidentiality.
The Wednesbury Wives had tackled some different difficulties over the years, wife beaters, rapists, drunks, but none had ended with a loss of life. Although the club had been formed around a financial issue in the first place, it had grown to encompass broader problems for women and wives. Somehow they found a way round each problem, carefully avoiding contact with the law, leaving nothing to trace back to them.
Now, as Violet was of an age, they were asking her to join them.
‘I… I’m not a wife… nor will I ever be!’ she stammered.
‘Oh,’ Martha chuckled, ‘that don’t matter none, wench, it’s just that we was all married when we started up that’s all.’
‘Oh I see.’ Violet wasn’t sure what would be asked of her if she joined their little band.
The thought was broken when Martha said, ‘Have a think on it and chat with yer mum, she’ll fill in the details for you. Then you can let us know when yer ready.’
Violet gave them her thanks and sat listening but not really hearing their chatter. Her mind was going over what she’d been told about Sligo. Thinking again of the things he did to her, her anger mounted. Then she said forcefully, ‘Count me in!’
With more tea and hugs from everyone, Violet had officially joined the ‘Wives’ club.
*
One day a knock came to the open back door. Kath was out at the market and Violet was alone in the house. Going to the doorway, she saw a woman dressed in drab clothes with a shawl draped over her hair who said, ‘I was looking for Kath Clancy.’
Kath had reverted to her previous married name after the death of John Sligo; it was a way in which she hoped she could forget him and the terrible things he had done.
‘She’s at the market; I’m Violet, her daughter. Won’t you come in and wait?’ she said, knowing in her heart this woman was in need of help. Violet’s feelings were a melange of excitement and fear. This was the first woman to ask for help since she had joined the club. She felt excited at possibly being able to help, but worried about what might be asked of her.
Looking around, the woman said, ‘No… thanks. I need to talk to Kath, it’s urgent.’
‘Please,’ Violet urged, ‘come in and have tea, she won’t be long and… it’s safe here.’
The woman stared at her long and hard before walking into the kitchen.
Sitting her at the table with a slice of cake, Violet set about making the world’s best remedy for any problem… a cup of tea!
*
Kath stepped into the kitchen and she and the woman sat at the table exchanged a glance before the woman returned her look to her teacup.
Violet raised her eyebrows at Kath as she set out another cup.
The woman watched them before she said, ‘Mary Forbes said to come see you.’
Kath nodded, ‘What can we do for you?’
‘I’m Joyce Clews, an’ I live across in Brick Kiln Street.’
Mrs Clews paused again; obviously she was finding the reason she had come here difficult to discuss. Kath and Violet waited patiently. Joyce Clews’ age was hard to determine; hard work and poor living conditions took their toll on the women of the Black Country. Dark straggly hair was revealed as she pushed her shawl back to rest on thin shoulders. Her eyes, although blue, seemed lifeless, as if the holding of too many secrets had killed their sparkle. Tears lay along the dark lashes threatening their overspill. Her thin lips parted as she drew in a ragged breath.
Kath’s hand covered Joyce’s which lay on the table and Violet noticed the woman’s fingernails were chewed down to the quick. ‘Take your time Joyce,’ Kath said gently.
‘Mary said…’ Joyce began again, ‘Mary said you might be able to help me.’
‘In what way, Joyce?’
‘I don’t know!’ The tears that had only threatened before began their downward journey. Silent tears, Violet knew all too well, harboured the worst kind of anguish.
‘Why don’t you tell us… from the beginning,’ Kath urged when at last Joyce got her emotions under control.
Violet set to making more tea as she listened to the woman’s story interspersed with heart-rending sobs. Joyce, it seemed, had thought herself unable to conceive. She and her husband Ray had been trying for some years for a family. Ray wasn’t that bothered about having kids, she confided, but it was all Joyce ever wanted – babies of her own to care for. Then came the elation of finding herself pregnant. All of her friends h
ad provided things their children had grown out of as a way of helping out. Money was very tight; Ray’s wages as a pit worker barely covering their rent and food but they would get by, she would make sure of it.
Joyce was deliriously happy as she prepared for the birth of her first child. She was in her fifth month and had been busy washing and drying more baby clothes given to her by a neighbour. Ray had returned from work and his tea wasn’t ready, Joyce was so wrapped up in the ecstasy of being pregnant, all thought of preparing a meal had evaded her. In a foul mood, Ray had stomped off to the Green Dragon Hotel in the marketplace with their rent money in his pocket…
Violet watched the emotions play over the woman’s thin face, her distress evident as she continued her tale.
‘He’s usually such a good man,’ she cried, ‘but when he gets drunk…’
A feeling of dread began to creep over Violet as she looked from Joyce to her mother who nodded her head. They both knew well what men were like when they’d had a few too many.
Joyce Clews continued, ‘When he got home he’d spent all the rent money on ale… he had nothing left… not a penny!’
The rest of the story unfolded. Joyce had naturally become upset; how were they to pay their rent at the end of the week now he’d spent the money on beer? How would they eat? With no rent paid, the pit boss would turn them out onto the street without a care! How would they bring up a child then, with nowhere to live!
Ray’s temper had flared before becoming an inferno as he had set about his wife with slaps and punches. How dare she question his actions? He was head of the household and could do whatever he pleased!
Eventually having punched Joyce to the floor, he had kicked her violently and repeatedly in the stomach – the result of which had seen her lose her baby.
Ray’s reaction – one less mouth to feed!
Kath comforted a sobbing Joyce as best she could then asked, ‘What do you think we can do to help?’
The Wives’ Revenge Page 4
