‘No, she says she’ll miss me wages, but I told her I can’t stay at home forever.’
‘No you can’t, an’ our May shouldn’t expect it. She knows she’ll never go without as long as she’s got us.’ Edith didn’t much care for her widowed sister’s pessimistic outlook on life. ‘Tell her she should be happy for you.’
Edith gathered the pile of feathers and stuffed them into a paper bag. ‘Maybe one of these days our Lacey might find herself a chap who’s free to marry her.’ They all knew this remark alluded to Lacey’s friendship with Nathan Brearley. ‘But you never know,’ chirped Edith, rinsing the plucked chicken under the tap, ‘something might come of it yet.’
‘Mother! Will you stop letting your romantic notions run away with you.’ Lacey addressed Joan. ‘She reads one book after another an’ expects me to be like the heroines in every story; the poor little match girl marries the wealthy landowner.’
‘I just think you’re destined for better things, our Lacey, an’ there’s no harm in hoping.’
*
Winter began its approach, the weather turning bitingly cold and windy. Lacey and Nathan’s Sunday walks were necessarily brief, daylight hours quickly fading to black night so, in order to redress the shortened time they spent together on Sundays, they took to meeting on the riverbank after work. There they snatched a few precious moments, Lacey saddened that Nathan never suggested an evening or Saturday afternoon meeting.
On the first Sunday in December they braved the icy cold and met at Cuckoo Hill.
Huddled in the shelter of the cairn the talk turned to Christmas and the New Year.
‘I love Christmas,’ Lacey said. ‘People always seem kinder to one another at this time of year. It must be something to do with the spirit of giving; it brings out the best in ‘em.’
‘How will you celebrate it, Lacey?’ Nathan posed the question tentatively.
‘Oh, you know, the usual way. Folks drop in for hot toddies, bringing a bit of Christmas cheer with ‘em so it usually ends up with a singsong an’ a few daft games. Mam makes everybody welcome. We trim the parlour with fresh spruce and holly and Mam makes delicious mince pies and Christmas cake.’ Lacey wrinkled her nose. ‘Christmas has a smell all of its own, don’t you think.’
‘I’m afraid Christmas Day in our house is a sombre affair. We go to church, eat an overly large dinner then sit around making desultory conversation with relatives we don’t particularly like. It’s not what you would call fun.’
‘Eeh, you should come up to our place, you’d enjoy it, what with the lads an’ their mates an’ the neighbours wassailing at all hours.’ Lacey issued the invitation without thinking.
Nathan coughed nervously. ‘Actually, I was going to suggest you might visit us. It would be an opportunity for me to introduce you to my family. We have a rather informal gathering on the day after Boxing Day for the Mill managers and their wives. I’m to invite a guest; I thought it might be you.’
Lacey gave Nathan an enquiring look. ‘Does this mean what I think it means? Are you saying you’d like me to meet your mother because…’ she adopted an arch manner of speech, ‘because you want us to be more than friends, Mr Brearley?’
Nathan looked perplexed. ‘Of course I do, Lacey. Surely you know how much I love you.’ He pulled her to his chest, mumbling ‘I thought you loved me.’
Lacey gazed into his troubled grey eyes, her heart performing somersaults. ‘I do, Nathan, from that first afternoon on the canal. I’m just taken aback to think you would choose a girl from the weaving shed when you could have an heiress. Not that I don’t think I’m as good as one,’ she blustered, ‘but you come from a different background an’ your sort usually stick to their own kind.’
Exasperated, Nathan threw his arms wide. ‘Lacey, I don’t care where you work or what your background is. You are the most beautiful, intelligent and interesting woman I have ever met. That’s why I love you.’
Lacey stepped out from the shelter of the cairn, the chill breeze ruffling her hair about her cheeks. She gazed out over the moor, her mind in turmoil. It was true she wanted more than just friendship – but did she want everything else it would entail; would Nathan expect her to eschew her family and friends, and give up the hopes and dreams she had for carving her own future? She knew she could not adapt her way of life to that of a lady of leisure, one who spent her days tea partying and ignoring issues that needed to be addressed in the real world; her world.
Nathan watched her struggle, his expression mirroring her own when she turned to face him. ‘What makes you hesitate? Is it that you don’t love me enough to overcome the problems we’ll surely face.’
Lacey shook her head. ‘If you’re referring to the difference in our backgrounds, that’s the least of my worries. I can hold my own with anyone, be they high or low; what I wouldn’t want is for you to expect me to become a society lady,’ she laughed derisively, ‘that’s even if I could. No, Nathan, if we were to marry I would still want freedom enough to follow my own ambitions and involve myself in matters that really concern me. I won’t be a simpering, little woman whose days are filled with nothing but idle prattle and wondering what to wear.’
Nathan laughed out loud. ‘I’m sure you won’t, and I wouldn’t want you any way but how you are. I won’t change you, Lacey.’ He drew her close. ‘I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to.’
Lacey grimaced. ‘You’re probably right about that. Maybe, given time, I might become a little more refined, but I wouldn’t hold your breath.’
Nathan laughed again. ‘I won’t, but,’ his humour evaporated, his expression one of undisguised irritation, ‘you’re right to say the difference in our backgrounds may cause problems, but it’s up to us to convince the doubters that we have a future together.’
Lacey gave him a wry smile. ‘We could have a fight on our hands – you more so than me. My family will assume I’ll become too grand for them – and as for yours – they’ll hate the idea.’
‘I’ll deal with them,’ Nathan said, firmly. ‘I won’t let anyone stand in our way.’
‘Brave words,’ said Lacey, but she couldn’t help thinking Nathan wouldn’t find it that easy. In the deepening dusk they walked down Cuckoo Hill, each lost in their own thoughts. At the parting of the ways they halted, Lacey taking both of Nathan’s hands in her own and saying, ‘Words can’t express how happy you’ve made me. I knew from when we first met that I wanted to spend my life with you. So, Mr Brearley, let’s prepare for battle.’
Nathan bent his face to hers and they kissed for the first time, a long, warm kiss that made Lacey’s spine tingle. The snow that had threatened to fall throughout the day found release, large white flakes settling on hats and shoulders, the soot stained world around them transformed to pearly white. Another kiss and they parted, both glorying in wonderment at the shift in their relationship, and at the same time inwardly quaking at what the consequences might be.
*
‘Our Jimmy’s late again,’ Edith remarked, as she banked the fire with slack to keep it burning overnight. Outside the ground was covered with layers of ice and fresh snow, it having fallen every day for the past week. ‘He shouldn’t be out on a night like this but just lately there’s no keeping him in.’
‘That’s ‘cos he’s spoiled rotten,’ Joshua Barraclough growled, ‘you give in to him at every turn. He should be tending sheep wi’ me an’ our Matt, not working in t’mill. An’ come spring when we’re breakin’ us backs ploughin’ an’ plantin’ he’ll still be there. What sort of a son is it won’t work on his father’s land?’
‘Now Jos, you know as well as I do the land’s not big enough to support us all,’ Edith interjected. ‘Without our Lacey’s an’ Jimmy’s wages we’d be in a right pickle, I can tell you. There’s weeks when this farm earns nowt.’
‘Well it’s not for t’want o’ tryin’. I work me fingers to t’bone,’ grumbled Joshua.
‘We know you do, luv,’ Edith said, patientl
y, ‘but you shouldn’t go taking your temper out on our Jimmy. You’ve been awful short with him lately.’
Lacey shut her ears to the argument; she’d heard it all before. Her Dad hated the mills and had been sorely disappointed when she had gone to be a weaver instead of staying at home to help Edith with the geese and hens. Jimmy’s defection three years later still caused uproar, Joshua regularly voicing his objections. Yet, deep down, he knew the family couldn’t manage without the money Lacey and Jimmy brought home; he was just too proud to admit it.
Lacey filled a saucepan with milk. ‘I’m making a bedtime drink, Dad. Do you want one.’ Prising the lid off a tin of Fry’s Cocoa she measured spoonfuls into thick mugs.
‘Aye, go on then,’ Joshua said, mollified. ‘I’ll have that then I’ll go to bed. I’m not waitin’ up for him, the silly young bugger.’
Just then the door burst open and Matt came in, bringing with him a flurry of icy, white flakes. ‘By, that’s some bloody night out there,’ he said, stamping his boots free of snow. He shrugged out of his coats.
‘Did you check on them ewes an’ lock up,’ Joshua asked him.
‘Aye, I did. They’re well sheltered in yon fold.’ Matt glanced round the kitchen. ‘Our Jimmy not in yet?’
‘No, he’s not,’ Lacey said. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know who he’s running with lately, would you?’ She had a nasty feeling it could be Arty Bincliffe and his mob.
Matt shrugged. ‘Can’t say as I do. You know me, I hardly go any further than t’Plough.’
The Plough Inn being the nearest public house to Netherfold, Matt rarely went into the heart of the town. He had no interest in women, or so it seemed, and his social life consisted of no more than a few pints of ale and a game of skittles. That he was Joshua’s favourite went without saying. Born to the land, Matt was happiest herding sheep or planting turnips.
Matt took off his boots and went and sat by the fire. ‘I checked on t’geese an’ all, Mam. Fred Tinker told me somebody stole three of his turkeys. Coming up to Christmas the thieving buggers’ll be raiding coops all over t’place.’
Lacey handed out mugs of cocoa then joined her family at the fireside, Joshua and Matt toasting their feet on the fender, Lacey with her nose in a book and Edith darning Jimmy’s socks. They listened for the sound of his footsteps.
Joshua drained his mug then slammed it down on the hearth. ‘Well, I don’t know about the rest o’ you but I’m off to bed. I’ll give that thoughtless bugger a right larrikin when I see him tomorrow.’
He stamped out of the room, Matt following shortly after. Every now and then Edith glanced anxiously at the outside door. ‘You go on up, Mam,’ Lacey said. ‘I’ll wait up for him. He’ll not be long.’
‘Right you are, love; but I’ll not sleep.’ Edith plodded from the kitchen.
Lacey read for a while then dozed for almost an hour, roused by the stamp of feet outside the kitchen door. It opened and Jimmy crept in, grinning sheepishly. ‘I knocked snow off me boots afore I came in.’
Ignoring his childish placatory tactics, Lacey fixed him with an iron glare. ‘Where were you?’ Her accusatory tone made Jimmy flinch. ‘And more to the point, who were you with?’
Jimmy’s cheeks reddened. ‘Some lad’s from t’Mill.’ He shuffled his feet and hung his head, the picture of a naughty child.
‘Arty Bincliffe,’ Lacey spat. ‘What did I tell you? Mam and Dad were worried to death an’ if they knew who you were running with, they’d have a fit.’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘Get over by t’fire; warm yourself. I’ll make you some cocoa.’
Jimmy shuffled over to the hearth, the lamps on the mantel casting him in full light. A skinny lad, all elbows and ears, he stretched his scrawny wrists to warm his hands over the dying embers. Minutes later, Lacey handed him a mug of cocoa. ‘What’s that on your jacket?’
Jimmy shrank back as Lacey plucked a clump of down from the front of his coat. ‘What have you been up to? You’re covered in feathers.’
Jimmy put his mug on the hearth then brushed frantically at the front of his jacket, a red flush creeping up his neck into his cheeks.
Lacey’s face registered her dismay. ‘You’ve been thieving birds.’
Jimmy spluttered. ‘We only did it for a laugh, Lacey. I didn’t want to, but Arty said I wa’ soft. I don’t want ‘em thinkin’ I’m just a kid so I went along wi’ it.’
‘Along with what, Jimmy?’
‘We pinched two o’ Jem Baxter’s turkeys.’
‘An’ you think that’s funny, do you?’ Lacey’s voice rang with contempt and her eyes blazed as she brought her face to within an inch of Jimmy’s. ‘Would you think it funny if somebody pinched Mam’s geese? Summat she’s worked hard to rear all year to make a bit of money.’
Tears welled in the corners of Jimmy’s eyes and he seemed to shrink inside his jacket as Lacey berated him. ‘Arty didn’t steal the turkeys for a joke, you daft lummox; he’ll sell ‘em to the highest bidder come Christmas.’ She prodded Jimmy’s chest, hard. ‘That’s thieving, Jimmy.’
Chastened, Jimmy hurried to the foot of the stairs. ‘I’m sorry, Lacey. It’ll not happen again. I don’t want me cocoa, I’m off to bed.’
Nursing the mug of cocoa, Lacey determined to have a word with Arty Bincliffe, warn him off, tell him to leave their Jimmy alone. She’d not mention this night’s escapade to her Mam. It would only upset her. And she certainly wouldn’t tell her Dad. His relationship with his youngest son caused enough problems. She’d deal with it herself.
6
The Sunday before Christmas was a bitterly cold day when Nathan and Lacey met on the riverbank behind the Mill. Underfoot the path was slippery and overhead thick grey clouds threatened snow.
It was only just after two in the afternoon yet already the sky was darkening, and Lacey shivered as they walked gingerly, hand in hand, over the icy ruts. It was so dismal she couldn’t help thinking of the warm, jolly places they could be were they not keeping their friendship secret.
Christmas Day being a Thursday, the Mill would close until the following Monday and Lacey, looking forward to the holiday, attempted to lighten her spirits by talking of what she might do. ‘It’ll give me chance to catch up with me sewing, an’ there’ll be folks coming and going at all hours so I’ll not be short of company,’ she said, at the same time hoping Nathan would suggest she spent some of the time with him.
Nathan, sensing her forced jollity gazed down at her, his heart heavy. She looked a picture in her navy woollen coat with its nipped in waist, a bright blue knitted scarf covering her glossy brown hair and framing her lovely face. He desperately wanted to say he would share every minute of the holiday with her, yet he knew family duties would claim him.
His spirits sinking even further, he reiterated his request for her to meet his family. ‘Do come. There’ll be other workers there so you won’t feel out of place. We’ll get it over with in one fell swoop.’ To Lacey it sounded as though he dreaded the event so she said as much.
‘Look, if you’re not sure about this we can leave it for another time.’
‘No, the sooner we get it over with, the better.’
For the rest of the afternoon Nathan was tense and distracted and they almost quarrelled when Lacey chose to discuss a topic close to her heart.
‘They’ve arrested Emmeline Pankhurst again. I think it’s disgraceful that women aren’t allowed to vote. If I were in London I’d join the protest.’
Nathan stared at her, askance. ‘She was involved in a bomb attack on Lloyd George’s home. Surely you don’t condone such actions.’
‘They wouldn’t have to resort to such actions if men were intelligent enough to acknowledge that women have an equal place in society,’ said Lacey stoutly. ‘I think Sylvia Pankhurst and her daughter, Emmeline, are extremely brave.’
‘Foolish, more like; it all seems dreadfully unladylike to march in mobs, yelling and jeering at those chosen to run the country.’
&
nbsp; ‘Aye – men – that’s who runs the country an’ women have no say – not even upper class women like the one’s you’re used to,’ Lacey fired back, her cheeks pinking with the heat of her argument. ‘Suffragettes fight for what they believe in. They’re even prepared to starve to death for their rights. The way the government played ‘Cat an’ Mouse’ with ‘em was a dirty trick; releasing them from gaol when they went on hunger strike so’s the women wouldn’t get public sympathy. We’ve as much right to the vote as any man.’ Lacey paused for breath, her green eyes glittering and her expression steely.
Nathan watched the rapid rise and fall of her bosom. ‘I don’t entirely disagree with women having the vote,’ he said reasonably, ‘but I think they should let the law decide. These dramatic little displays of aggravation are getting them nowhere.’
‘Dramatic displays!’
Lacey’s shriek stopped Nathan in his tracks. She stared at him incredulously. ‘You think Emily Davidson throwing herself under the hooves of the king’s horse an’ being trampled to death was just for show. Really Nathan, I thought better of you.’ She turned, marching briskly away from him.
Nathan ran after her, catching her with both hands and swinging her round to face him. He kissed her passionately and when he released her, he laughed, ‘Oh Lacey, my darling little firebrand. What am I to do with you? Of course I agree women should have the right to vote. I’m sorry I upset you; don’t let’s quarrel over things that don’t concern us. We have little enough time together.’
And whose fault’s that, thought Lacey, as he took her in his arms and kissed her again. She responded willingly but in the recesses of her mind she was thinking, the right to vote might not concern you, Nathan, but it concerns me. And why, when you’re so intelligent and well read, are your opinions so skewed? It’s as if someone was telling you what you should think, rather than what you believe. What’s more, people of your social standing don’t have to consider the needs of the lower classes. You have your rights, no matter what.
The Girl from the Mill Page 5
