They travelled another half a mile or so in silence until Mr Dawkins asked, ‘Recognize anything yet?’
Hannah bit her lip and shook her head. She was disappointed. She’d so hoped that once she saw the town again, her memories would come back. But nothing looked familiar.
‘Do you remember the railway?’ Mr Dawkins asked. ‘Or the Bollin? The river?’ he explained when she looked puzzled.
‘No.’
‘We’re just passing over the Bollin now, but you can’t see it. It was covered up along here when they built the railway. There’s still places where you can see it though. Now, this ’ere’s the Waters. It’s where I live.’
She looked at the wide open space surrounded by houses and larger buildings with tall, smoking chimneys. In the centre stood a square public house with a sign outside – the Cross Keys. A coach, drawn by two horses with prancing hooves, rolled by. Men on horseback clip-clopped past and two men driving four cows tipped their caps to Mr Dawkins, who waved in return to their greeting
‘Why’s it called the Waters?’
Mr Dawkins pulled a face. ‘Place floods from time to time. It’s by the river. If we get heavy rain, this whole area’s like a lake.’ He laughed and pointed at the Cross Keys. ‘I remember a few years back, before the railway came, the pub getting flooded. Lost all their barrels of beer in the cellars, they did. A right to-do there was.’
Hannah frowned. She couldn’t remember anything like that happening in her childhood.
‘But we’re used to it,’ he went on, grinning like a man completely happy with his lot.
Pulling his cart to a halt at the bottom of a long flight of stone steps, he said, ‘If you go up these, duck, you’ll come out near the church, and the police station is on the other side of the church in the basement of the Town Hall. You can’t miss it.’
He glanced at her apologetically. ‘I wish I could take you home with me, duck, but our little house is fair bursting at the seams already. I’ve four young ’uns and another on the way and what the missis’d say if I turn up on the doorstep with a pretty young wench like you in tow, I daren’t think.’
‘It’s all right, Mr Dawkins, honestly. And I can’t thank you enough for bringing me this far. Are you really sure you won’t let me pay you?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s been my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed your company.’
Hannah climbed down, and picked up her bundle from the back.
‘I hope you’ve got plenty of puff, lass. There’s an ’undred and eight of them steps. I know, ’cos I counted ’em as a lad.’
He was still laughing as the cart rattled away and Hannah turned to begin the long climb. Just as he had said, she was breathless by the time she arrived at the top of the steps. Before her was the dark stone of the church and, walking round it, she found the pillared entrance to the Town Hall and her way into the basement beneath it.
So here she was standing in front of the desk and looking up into the fatherly face of the constable.
‘Well, love, if you don’t know the street you lived on, nor your neighbour’s name, then you’ve set me a real problem. Can’t you remember anything about where you lived?’
Hannah frowned. She felt rather foolish. After all, she’d been nine years old when they had finally been forced into the workhouse. She ought to be able to remember where she’d lived before that. But for some reason, it was all very hazy. Just flashes came back to her, but nothing that seemed helpful. Now she knew what the phrase ‘racking her brains’ meant. Her head almost hurt with trying to think, trying to remember. Then suddenly, her face brightened. ‘There was a pub just round the corner down the next street.’
‘Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. What was it called?’
‘I – um – I don’t know.’
The big man smiled at her. ‘Oh dear, I thought we had it then. You see, love, there’s lots of streets with pubs just round the corner. If we was to tramp round them all, we could be a week or more. Now, best thing you can do today is to have a wander round the town. See if anywhere seems familiar. But if you don’t find somewhere to stay, then come back here. Now promise me you’ll do that before it gets dark. I don’t want to think of you wandering about the streets at night.’
‘Do you know of a lodging house?’
The big policeman scratched his head. ‘I know of a few, but some you wouldn’t be able to afford. No offence, luv.’
‘None taken.’ She grinned ruefully at him as she hitched her bundle onto her shoulder. ‘I’ll go and have a look round then.’
‘You do that,’ he nodded, ‘and yer can leave yer bundle here if you like. Pick it up later. No need to be carrying that around all day.’ He stowed it safely in the back room as he added, ‘Good luck.’
‘Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.’
His gaze followed her as she left the station. He was curious about her. He’d already guessed she was a runaway, probably from a bad home or a harsh employer, but his instinct and his experience told him that she was no criminal on the run.
It was no surprise to Constable Robinson to see Hannah standing before his desk once more just as it began to turn dark. In a way, he was pleased to see her. For one, it meant she’d nothing to hide from the law, and secondly, she’d had the sense to come back where she would be safe.
‘Now, love, no luck then?’
Hannah shook her head. She’d tramped the streets all day and now she was tired and hungry and frightened. Frightened that she would not be able to find a place to stay or work and that she would be sent back to the mill. Tentatively, she asked, ‘Er – I don’t suppose I could sleep in a cell tonight, could I?’
He blinked at her, obviously surprised by her request, yet, as he thought about it, he nodded slowly. ‘I don’t see why not. I’ll have to check with my superior, because things can get a bit busy here on a Saturday night. But you sit down over there, love, and I’ll go and ask.’
Hannah sank wearily onto the bench and leaned her head against the wall. It had been a long day and she hadn’t slept well for the last two nights, but now that there was a good distance between her and the Critchlows, she could relax – a little, at least. And, ironically, if they let her stay, she’d be safe in the police station.
The officer was back in only a few minutes. ‘Yes, that’s all right. One night only, though, he says. But he don’t like to think of a young girl like you wandering the streets. We’ve both got daughters of our own. Come on then.’ He lifted the hatch in the counter and beckoned her through. ‘You can share my bread and cheese with me.’ He chuckled and patted his rotund belly. ‘The missis always makes me too much anyway.’
The back room was a hive of activity. Two men were packing papers and books into crates whilst Hannah sat and ate the policeman’s crusty bread and creamy cheese.
He sat down too. ‘Now then—’ His tone was still kindly and concerned, yet there was a trace of firmness too. ‘Are you going to tell me who you’re running away from?’
Hannah stopped chewing for a moment and stared at him. ‘How . . . how did you know I was?’
He chuckled. ‘I’ve been in this job a few years now, love. A young girl like you doesn’t just turn up in a place for no reason.’ He glanced her up and down, taking in the state of her boots, the hem of her dress. ‘You’ve not travelled far, nor have you been sleeping rough. So, where have you come from and why?’
‘Are you going to make me go back?’
He shrugged his huge shoulders. ‘Depends, love. I can’t break the law, however much I might want to help you. And I do. Let me tell you that here and now, I do want to help you best I can.’
As Hannah munched, she eyed him speculatively. She was trying to decide whether to trust him or not. The very worst that could happen was that he would have her sent back to the mill – and the waiting punishment room. She gave an involuntary shudder.
The kindly man must have noticed for he asked gently, ‘So very terrible was it?�
�
She sighed and decided that she had little choice. And there was just the chance that – for once – she’d found someone who might believe her.
So, she told him everything. At the end of her tale, the officer sat looking at her and stroking his chin thoughtfully.
‘Well, by rights, you should go back to the mill, love. You’ve broken the terms of your indenture and I think I’m right in saying that this Critchlow fellow has the right to make you complete the term you signed up for.’
‘I know,’ Hannah said sadly, ‘but surely, there’s some law to say that they shouldn’t lie to you about your mother. And I can’t understand why more wasn’t done to look into Luke’s death. Jane’s accident, I can understand. There’s always accidents and that’s exactly what it was – an accident. But Luke falling into the wheel wasn’t. Edmund Critchlow struck him and he fell backwards.’
The policeman shook his head. ‘Ah well now, I’d be inclined to agree with you there, but since it’s outside our area and it’s all been done and dusted, I don’t think there’s much we can do. Won’t bring the lad back, will it?’
‘No,’ Hannah said grimly, ‘but it won’t make Mr Edmund pay for what he’s done either.’
Constable Robinson eyed her as he said softly, ‘I reckon you’ve got it in mind to see that he does – one day – haven’t you?’
Hannah stared at him. Was he a mind reader?
He chuckled. ‘It’s written all over your pretty face. “I’ll get him back one day,” that look says.’
Hannah smiled a little sheepishly. ‘I’ll have to mind what my face is showing then, won’t I?’ And they laughed together. But more seriously, the man said gently, ‘Well, love, just mind how you do it. Don’t break the law, will you? Now then,’ he went on more briskly as he pulled his huge frame to its feet. ‘Let’s get you settled in a cell before I go off duty. I’ll make sure they leave the door open so’s you won’t feel you’re being locked up for the night. And in the morning – well – we’ll see, eh?’
It was strange lying alone on the hard bed in the tiny room. She was so used to sleeping in a large room with lots of other people, hearing their snuffles and snores. Yet it was far from quiet in the cell; sounds from other policemen on night duty drifted down the corridor. And from a neighbouring cell came the raucous singing of a drunk, arrested for disturbing the peace. Hannah smiled to herself in the darkness. He was still disturbing the peace in here – her peace. Yet gradually, the volume of his singing decreased and he murmured the words softly to himself.
It was strangely comforting for the girl who’d always loved to sing, even if it was the ramblings of a drunk.
Finally, wearied by the events of the long day, Hannah drifted into sleep, lulled by the crooning of her companion in the cell next door and wondering what the next day would bring.
Twenty-Five
The following morning, having shared in the station’s breakfast in the back room, Constable Robinson introduced her to a young, fresh-faced officer. ‘This ’ere’s Jim Smith. How would you like to walk along with him on his beat and see if you recognize any of the streets?’ He turned to the young man putting on his tall hat and straightening his knee-length blue frock coat. ‘Now, Jim, if it gets to afternoon and you haven’t found the place this young ’un is looking for, take her to Ma Boulton’s. She takes in lodgers and she keeps a decent house.’ He glanced archly at the young fellow. ‘If you know what I mean.’
The young constable grinned at his superior and then swivelled his glance to include Hannah. ‘I’ll look after her, sir. Come on, then – Hannah, is it?’
She nodded.
As they came out into the street, the young man confided, ‘You’ve done me a favour. I’m glad to get out of there. The station’s moving to new premises with accommodation for our inspector so’s he can live above the shop, you might say. We’re all getting roped in to help pack everything up. So,’ he winked at her, ‘thanks for giving me a proper job to do. Right then,’ he went on briskly, ‘I reckon the best place to start is right here in the Market Place. Something might look familiar.’
As they began to walk along, Hannah kept silent, knowing that the young man was on duty, but he opened the conversation. ‘Constable Robinson says you can’t remember much about the place you used to live.’
Hannah frowned, trying again to drag up her childhood memories. ‘I can’t remember the names, but I’ve got a sort of picture in my mind. I . . . I think I might recognize the street.’
Jim pulled a wry face. ‘If we can find it. Macclesfield’s a big place.’
‘I know,’ Hannah said quietly. ‘I’m sure I tramped most of it yesterday.’
‘But you didn’t see anything familiar?’
Hannah shook her head.
‘Mr Robinson said your mother worked in one of the silk mills. Did you live near where she worked?’
‘I think so. Just a couple of streets away.’
‘Which mill was it?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Did you ever go to the place where she worked? Would you recognize the mill?’
‘I – don’t think so. I used to stay home with my gran.’
‘Did you go to school?’
‘Oh yes. Me gran used to give me a penny and I’d go on a Sunday.’
‘Ah, now that gives me a bit of a clue. Come on. I’ve got an idea.’
The tall young man began to lengthen his stride and Hannah had to trot to keep up with him. But she was smiling now. Suddenly, thanks to the kindly constable in the station and now this nice young man, she had real hope.
They’d walked quite a distance from the Market Place along a main street before Jim turned right into a narrower street. Still he said nothing until they came to a halt before a large building.
‘This is the Sunday school,’ Jim said.
Hannah stared up at the long rows of windows. Her mouth dropped open. ‘That’s it! That’s it! This is where I went to school.’
Jim grinned down at her. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. So, can you remember your way home?’
Hannah’s face fell as she looked wildly about her. There was a catch in her voice as she said, ‘No, no, I can’t.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Jim said calmly. ‘We’ll do what Constable Robinson calls “acting it out”.’
Hannah looked up at him, puzzled, but Jim’s grin only widened. ‘It’s what we do when we want to try to figure out how a crime happened.’ He leaned closer and, his eyes dancing as he teased her, added, ‘’Specially if it’s a murder.’
If he was aiming to shock her, he was trying the wrong person. Hannah grinned at him and despite her anxiety, said impishly, ‘I bet that’s exciting – when you get a murder.’
He blinked and then laughed. ‘By heck, you’re a feisty little piece, aren’t you? Most girls go all daft and squeamish when I talk about it.’
‘So, what do I have to do to “act it out”?’
‘Go right up to the main door there and pretend you’re just leaving at the end of the day.’
Hannah looked at him blankly for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and did as he suggested. She walked to the main door and then turned and looked back towards the young man standing at the gate. Vague memories stirred in her mind. She closed her eyes a moment and she could almost hear the sound of other children, laughing and shrieking as they ran, pell-mell, towards the gate. She opened her eyes and began to run too. Reaching the gate, she didn’t pause, but ran on, turning to the right and on up the street.
‘Hey, wait for me.’ Grinning, the young policeman took off his hat and pounded after her. Hannah glanced back and laughed aloud, realizing what it must look like to passers-by. She was hurtling along the street being pursued by a policeman. She slowed her pace and stopped to wait for him. When he reached her, she was bending forward, catching her breath but still laughing.
It was the first time she’d laughed with such abandon since Luke’s death. Somehow, being m
iles away from the place where it had happened made it possible to put it out of her mind for a short while. But not for long; she couldn’t imagine ever being able to forget about Luke for very long.
Puffing, Jim said, ‘By heck, you can’t half move for a girl.’
She chuckled. ‘I thought I’d better stop. Folks might think you were trying to arrest me.’
He laughed too. ‘You’re right at that. But as long as it hasn’t stopped you remembering where you’re headed.’
Hannah straightened up. ‘Oh no. I can remember very clearly now. We go right to the end of the road and then turn left.’ She frowned. ‘But I can’t remember anything after that.’
‘You will when you get there,’ Jim said confidently. ‘Come on. It sounds as if it’s Bridge Street we’re wanting.’
But when they turned the corner, Hannah was still puzzled.
‘This is a silk mill on the left here,’ Jim prompted helpfully. ‘Is this where your mother worked?’
Hannah stared up at the building. ‘I . . . I seem to remember it. I suppose it could be.’
‘Maybe it’s only familiar because you walked past it on your way home from the school.’
They walked a little further, and then suddenly, Hannah stopped on a corner where another street crossed Bridge Street. She stood looking down the sloping street to her left.
‘This is Paradise Street,’ Jim said. He waved his arm to the other side of the road. ‘It carries on up there as well.’
Her voice was little more than a whisper, but there was no denying her excitement. ‘This is the street where we used to live.’
‘You sure?’
She nodded. ‘It was very clever of you to suggest retracing my footsteps like that.’
He smiled and shrugged off her compliment, yet she could see he was gratified. Her face sobered and she frowned. ‘You’d’ve thought I ought to’ve remembered the street names. After all, I lived here till I was nine. And I ought to remember the people we lived near. How dim am I?’
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