Farewell to Lancashire

by Anna Jacobs

  They had to wait longer than a moment or two, but at last the door opened and their uncle joined them, looking dishevelled and harassed, dabbing at the scratch on his cheek. ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting. My wife is – well, you saw that she’s not – um, not herself today. What’s happened? Are you in trouble?’

  ‘While three of us were away today, our house was broken into by two men,’ Cassandra said. ‘They destroyed our furniture, smashed doors and threatened my father, who is bedridden. They said they’d come back and kill us if we didn’t leave town.’

  As he listened, his expression went from politeness to shock. ‘Is my brother all right?’

  ‘They didn’t touch him but he’s badly shaken. Because the seizure has left him partly paralysed, he was helpless to stop them and could only lie there while they manhandled my sister.’

  ‘They didn’t touch the rooms we’ve let to other families,’ Pandora added. ‘So someone must have planned this carefully to hurt us ... and only us.’

  He didn’t say anything for a moment, closing his eyes with an expression of anguish on his face. When he looked up, he said quietly, ‘Wait here. I’ll close the shop early and get my coat and hat. I want to see for myself.’

  Cassandra looked at him in surprise. ‘You’re coming to our house?’

  ‘It’s more than time I made peace with my brother, don’t you think?’ Looking upwards to the rooms above the shop, he added, almost to himself, ‘And then afterwards I’ll talk to her. I’ll find some way of stopping her from hurting you again.’

  When they reached the house, Joseph looked at his nieces. ‘I’d like to speak to Edwin alone, if that’s all right with you?’ He felt the things they had to say to one another after all these years of estrangement were best said in private.

  ‘You won’t do anything to upset him?’ Cassandra asked.

  ‘I promise I won’t.’

  Inside the house, he inspected the damage with a feeling of sick horror, then followed his oldest niece up the stairs.

  She opened the bedroom door, beckoned to Maia to come out, then said, ‘Here’s someone to cheer you up, Dad.’

  His brother’s face lit up at the sight of him and Joseph tried hard to conceal his shock at how old and worn Edwin looked. To his dismay, his brother had the translucent look that often meant a person was close to death. Somehow he knew he was only just in time to say goodbye.

  He moved towards the bed, glancing round the room. It was furnished only by a narrow bed with ragged blankets, a hard wooden chair and a battered chest of drawers. ‘I’ve been a fool, Edwin, a greedy fool. I was wrong to marry Isabel, wrong to abandon my family.’

  ‘That – doesn’t matter – now.’

  As Edwin stretched out his good arm, Joseph went to embrace him, shocked all over again by how insubstantial his brother’s body felt. He sat down on the bed, keeping one of the wasted hands in his own, listening to the slurred, halting words.

  ‘I’m so glad – you came, Joseph. I’ve wanted – many times – to speak to you.’

  ‘And I you. But my wife went into hysterics if I so much as mentioned your name, and I’d promised to sever all connection with my family when I married her, so I kept my word. I thought she’d change her mind later about that, but she never did.’

  ‘Does she know – you’re here now?’

  ‘Yes.’ He touched his scratched cheek. ‘I think she’s gone mad. She must have arranged this attack on you. It could be no one else, because you’re well liked in the town, and anyway, you have nothing now to tempt a thief. I’m sorry, so very sorry.’

  ‘It was worth it if it brought you to see me again.’

  They were both silent for a few moments then Edwin said, ‘Joseph, I need – your help.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘I’ve been worried – about what’s going to happen to my girls after I die. There’s no end in sight to this war – and they’re getting thinner and thinner.’

  ‘I’ll send more food. Maybe that’ll help you get better, too.’

  ‘Don’t pretend. I’m not long for this world – and we both know it.’ He searched his brother’s face and seemed to see something there that reassured him. ‘You’ll look after my lasses?’

  ‘Of course.’

  As Edwin pulled him into a hug, Joseph couldn’t prevent tears from running down his face. They held one another for a long time, then sat and talked quietly.

  When the Town Hall clock struck half past nine, Joseph pulled out his pocket watch and squinted at it in the dimly lit room. ‘It’s later than I realised. I must go now. But I’ll be back, I promise.’

  ‘I know you will. And you’ve taken such a weight – off my mind. I’m glad my girls will have you – to keep an eye on them once I’m gone.’

  It was over an hour before Cassandra heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She went out to say goodbye to her uncle.

  He smiled at her and took one of her hands in his. ‘I think my brother and I have mended our relationship now. Edwin’s forgiven me, though I don’t deserve it.’

  ‘I’m glad. He’ll rest easier because of that. You’ll come and visit him again?’

  ‘Of course. And I’ll send food more often. Um – I gather Isabel’s friends have been picking on you at the sewing classes.’ As she nodded, he sighed. ‘It’s yet another thing she’s done to hurt you.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does. It matters very much to me. I hadn’t realised until recently that she was still telling everyone you’re immoral ... which I know you’re not.’

  ‘We and our friends know we’re not, which is what counts most.’

  He patted her hand. ‘I think it’ll help your reputations if I take you walking in the park on Sunday after church. That’ll show the world I think well of you.’

  She hesitated to accept. ‘Is it worth it? It’d upset your wife even more and you have to live with her.’

  ‘Do I? I’m going to see the doctor on the way home. I think she’s insane and if necessary, I want her locked away. I’ll call for you and—’

  Could things really be that easy? Somehow Cassandra doubted it. He’d not stopped his wife maligning them, seemed as gentle as her father under that affluent exterior. ‘Let’s wait until you’ve dealt with your own situation before we make any further plans. If your wife is still living with you, your life won’t be worth living if you take us walking.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right. Edwin said you were all clever lasses. He’s very proud of you. I’ll send a message when I know how things stand.’

  She nodded.

  After he’d gone she ran lightly up the stairs and found her father looking far more at peace than he had for a long time.

  He smiled at her. ‘Thank you for bringing Joseph to visit me. I didn’t want to die without seeing him again.’

  ‘We’ll not talk of dying, if you please. We earned some money today singing in Manchester and with the food our uncle gives us, we can afford to feed you properly from now on.’

  His smile vanished. ‘You went singing on the street like beggars? Oh, Cassandra, did you have to?’

  She met his gaze without flinching. ‘Yes. There was no other way. And we sang well, too, gave them pleasure in return for their money. I don’t regret doing it. We all have to eat. We’ve been selling furniture and other things, but there’s very little left now except for Mum’s locket and I’ll never part with that.’

  He shook his head sadly. ‘Well, you must do what you think best, my dear girl – who am I to judge? – but I can’t like the thought of you doing such a thing.’

  She didn’t want to prolong the discussion. ‘I’ll fetch you some supper now.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You have to eat.’

  He sighed. ‘A small piece of bread, then.’

  ‘How about pieces of bread in hot milk with sugar? We bought some food with the money we earned. A bowl of pobbies will slip down easily.’ Her mother h
ad always given them pobbies when they weren’t well.

  ‘All right.’

  But he ate only half before pushing the bowl away and saying apologetically, ‘I can’t force myself to eat any more, love.’

  When Cassandra went downstairs, exhaustion struck her and suddenly she could hardly move one foot in front of the other. Her sisters fussed over her, persuading her to eat the rest of the soggy pieces of bread he’d left before she went to bed, because you couldn’t waste good food.

  But like her father, she wasn’t hungry, just wanted to lie down and sleep. She forced the cold mush down stoically then left them to clear up and went to bed. She would be at the sewing class as usual in the morning.

  It had become a point of honour not to let her aunt’s friends drive her away.

  And if her uncle stopped his wife from hurting them and sent food for her father, surely things would improve a little?

  Joseph called at Dr Turner’s house on the way home, explained what had happened and asked him to come and examine Isabel. ‘I truly believe she’s gone mad.’

  But when they got home, they found her sitting sewing. She shot one quick glance at the doctor and sighed. ‘I’m sorry I lost my temper, Joseph. I don’t know what came over me.’

  His heart sank. He knew she hadn’t changed but when she behaved like this, in a gentle, ladylike way, no one would consider her mad enough to be locked away. ‘I asked Dr Turner to come and see you, I was so worried.’

  She took out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. ‘I’m ashamed of myself, having hysterics like that. I think perhaps I need a tonic, doctor. This war in America is getting everyone down. To see the operatives looking so hungry and hopeless – well, none of us can escape the worry of what will happen to our town, can we?’

  Joseph escorted Dr Turner downstairs and couldn’t resist saying, ‘She’s play-acting. She doesn’t care about the operatives and she hates my nieces so much that I’m afraid for their safety.’ He hesitated, but had no proof Isabel had arranged the attack, so said nothing more about that.

  ‘I don’t think she’s mad, but she is at that age when women get upset easily, hysterical even. I’ll send round a tonic for her, and you must try to keep her quiet and happy, if you can. The irrationality is only temporary, however. In a year or two this stage of life will have passed and she’ll be calmer again.’

  ‘I’ll try to do as you say.’

  But Joseph moved his things to another bedroom that night, something which made her curse and throw an ornament at him. He also decided to lock the door before he went to bed. A faint squeak woke him with a start some time later and he saw the door handle turning, then turning back again.

  He’d been right not to trust her. And he’d be very careful from now on. One day she’d betray herself and he’d have her locked away.

  Until then, it would be better not to be seen with his nieces in public. But he’d go round to visit his brother again. He’d not let anything stop him from doing that. He had a lot to make up for and, if he judged correctly, very little time in which to do it.

  He fell asleep trying to work out how to help his nieces without driving his wife to do something desperate. And he must make sure they’d be all right if anything happened to him. At his age, you didn’t know how long you had left, whatever your state of health.

  In April things improved suddenly for the sisters. Because the numbers of people out of work were now so high, it was decided by the local Relief Committee that the ladies of the Methodist Chapel were to run another soup kitchen and hold sewing and reading classes for members of their own congregation.

  One of the few things on which members of every denomination were agreed was that it was better not to leave young people idle, far better to make them earn their relief money by attendance at classes than just have it handed out.

  Able-bodied men were breaking stones or helping make better roads between Outham and its neighbouring towns. Men who were less capable physically were required to attend reading classes, and did so willingly, even though the Vicar’s patronising attitude was greatly resented.

  ‘He treats us like childer,’ some grumbled. ‘Naughty childer at that. We’re grown men, skilled in our trades, whether we can read those damned spider tracks in books or not.’

  ‘Ah, never mind him. It helps pass the time,’ others said. ‘I just laugh at that pompous fool.’

  Cassandra agreed with the latter viewpoint. She saw older men wandering the streets like lost souls, trying to fill the empty hours, and when she came out of the free library, where she sometimes went to read the newspapers, men who couldn’t read would ask her what the news was and if the war looked like ending soon.

  She went along to the sewing class at her chapel the first day feeling almost light-hearted that she would not have to face a constant barrage of criticism. And indeed, the morning passed very pleasantly for everyone. More work was got through in a happier atmosphere and the food they were given at lunch time was better too.

  Pandora volunteered to help with the cooking, which got her out of sewing, an activity she still detested. But Cassandra enjoyed sewing and here, her neat stitches were praised. She didn’t have to pull her work back once.

  When a real dressmaker came to give the more skilled girls lessons, they were all delighted to learn about cutting out and putting clothes together.

  But nothing filled the gap left in Cassandra’s life by Reece, nothing ever could, she was sure. She missed him even more than she’d expected. The two of them had talked and talked. Just being with him had made her quietly happy. The mere sight of him had lifted her spirits.

  Now she had no one to talk to in the same way, because her father grew breathless so quickly and slept a good deal of the time.

  Reece would be well on his way to Australia now, because it took about three months to get there, she’d read. She hoped he wasn’t seasick, hoped he would make a success of his new life. And the Southerhams too, of course.

  Hoped he wouldn’t forget her ... couldn’t help praying for that.

  On board the Eena, Reece often thought about Cassandra too, missing her dreadfully, far more than he’d expected. He’d been wrong to come on this journey, he knew that now, but it was too late to do anything about it. With her, it’d have been an adventure. Without her, it was a bleak exile from the one he loved.

  He had been so stupid! But he’d been desperate for work, had hated accepting charity, even from his family.

  Cabin passengers were kept separate from emigrants like him and he had to share the crowded quarters below deck with other men. These had poor access to fresh air and the hatch leaked when it rained. He felt very alone because he couldn’t go and visit the Southerhams, who lived and slept separately from him.

  However Francis came across to chat to him when they were all on deck, sometimes bringing his wife with him. It was strange how Reece felt about his employer. As he got to know him better – because like many others they filled in the long hours by chatting – he realised Francis needed practical guidance if his dreams were to become reality. His employer seemed to have little common sense, however kind he was. After a while Reece even thought of him by his first name, though he didn’t say it, of course.

  Perhaps it was just an effect of the voyage. Or perhaps it was one of the first signs of his new life, of the independence he was hoping for.

  Francis asked one day, ‘Is something wrong? You look sad sometimes.’

  Reece hesitated, then the unexpected sympathy brought it pouring out. ‘I’m missing Cassandra, shouldn’t have left her without at least getting engaged to show her I won’t forget her. How could I have been so stupid?’

  ‘My wife has spoken about your young lady. She thinks well of her.’

  ‘So does everyone who knows her. I used to visit her and her family every Sunday, wanted her to come with me to Australia. Only her father is dying and she has three younger sisters, all out of work like her. She can’t leave them a
t a time like this. She’s very devoted to her father. He has a fine mind, was learning Greek till he could no longer afford the lessons.’

  Francis looked at him in surprise. ‘An operative learning Greek?’

  ‘Working people aren’t necessarily stupid.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound patronising. I just wondered why he’d do that.’

  ‘He said it was one of the world’s great civilisations and we could learn a lot from studying its people and ways.’ Reece found it a comfort to share his thoughts. ‘I could have stayed and tried for a job in the south, I suppose. But what sort of job would I have got? They’ve no cotton mills there, so probably work as a labourer. You can’t build a decent future on the wages you get from that. I need something to offer Cassandra. She’s a wonderful woman, with a fine mind like her father’s.’

  Francis laughed. ‘I’ve never before heard of a man admiring a fine mind in a young woman.’

  ‘I was married to a stupid woman once, and though I was fond of poor Nan, who was the kindest soul on earth, it was tedious at times living with her. With Cassandra, there’s never a dull moment. Once I’m sure I can earn a living in Australia, I’m sending for her. And her sisters too, if she won’t leave them. I’ll do whatever it takes to make a life with her.’

  When Francis left him, Reece went to chat to some of the men who were in his mess. They had all been assigned to groups for their daily life. He was in charge of provisioning his own mess of eight single men. He had to draw the weekly food rations for them all, after which they ate together. And he had to cook the extra food allowances each group got as best he could under the watchful eye of the cook, who did the main meals only. Some of the men grumbled about having to do that, but Reece quite enjoyed the novelty of what was usually a woman’s job.