The chemist looked at Meg as he passed over the bottle of laudanum.
‘That’s the second bottle I’ve administered to you this week. What are you doing with it?’ he asked and looked stern.
‘It’s for my mother, she’s dying from cancer. She gets worse with each day and it’s the only thing that helps her with the pain,’ Meg said and passed him payment.
‘It’s costing you a pretty penny. It is to be hoped that the good Lord takes her soon else she’ll need more and more to fight the pain. She’ll get addicted and then nothing will help her,’ the chemist said, not unkindly, looking at the young lass who looked as if she hadn’t a penny to her name.
‘It doesn’t matter. As long as it helps her for now, we take each day as it comes,’ Meg said and turned to leave, pushing past the next customer without looking at them in a bid to get out of the shop.
‘Poor lass, her mother is dying and she’s working every hour she can for old Ted Lund at the bakery,’ Mrs Thomas, one of Meg’s regulars, told the chemist once she’d gone. ‘She’s a blinking good baker, but Ted will not be paying her that well, they’ll be struggling. There but for the grace of God go I.’
‘He must be paying her something decent. She’s spent a good deal on laudanum for her mother – she can’t carry on doing that forever.’
The chemist shook his head. How she was paying for them was none of his business but he thought he might just mention it when Ted returned and came in for his usual gout pills.
Meg rushed through the streets. She had one more place to visit before returning to her mother, one that she had not been able to get off her mind no matter how bad things had been at home.
She stood outside Frankie’s patisserie and looked through the window. Marie and Norah were busy serving their top-class customers and Brenda Jones was watching them as they smiled and made sure the customers got what they were asking for. Meg looked at her reflection in the shop’s window and could see just how scruffy she looked in her cast-off clothes, that she smelt of her morning’s work and there was a stain down the front of her dress where she had accidentally cracked an egg and it had spilt down the front of her. Compared to the shoppers in the bakery, she looked a mess and she decided to wait until the shop was empty before going in.
Once it was, she decided to enter the shop but found her way barred by Brenda Jones.
‘Sorry, may I enter please, I need to talk to Mr Pearson?’ Meg said.
Brenda looked down at her and sneered. ‘He’s not in today, he’s got business with his accountant. Besides, why would he want to see a street waif like you? Look at you, you are filthy and look as if you have just crawled out of the gutter.’
‘I’m sorry, I think you will find that me and Frankie… Mr Pearson are friends and that he doesn’t think that of me at all. Now if he is in there I need to see him.’ Meg tried to push past the woman who blocked her way.
‘You stupid girl!’ Brenda said venomously, refusing to move out of the way. ‘He’s only friends with you because you are his opposition. He’s been leading you on, finding out what he can about that filthy backstreet bakery that you work in. He means to buy it and close you down once the owner returns. Don’t you see, you silly child? You have been used. How could you actually think that a man that had the choice of any woman he wanted in Paris would think twice about looking at a backstreet girl like you? He’s with his accountant planning the takeover now. You’ll soon be without work and will have to crawl back to your squalor.’
‘You are wrong, we are friends because we have the same passion for baking, and we both have the same dreams. Frankie would not do that to me.’
Meg felt tears starting to sting her eyes and started to question the time and conversations that she had shared with Frankie.
‘Go home and don’t waste any more of your time swooning over a man who is way far beyond you,’ the older woman said waspishly. ‘I’m only saying this to you to save you from a broken heart. Men will always use us women, and you should learn this lesson now.’
Meg fought with her feelings and eventually decided that if Frankie was not there, it was a waste of her time standing arguing with Brenda.
‘Can you tell him that I called and that I’m sorry?’ she said after a time. ‘That’s all you need to tell him, nothing more.’
She felt a fool. Of course Brenda Jones was right. Why would somebody like Frankie Pearson show an interest in her? She had been blinded by his flattery and good looks, not to mention his baking skills. She had been an idiot. He could never love a girl like her a girl from off the backstreets who hadn’t a penny to her name.
Tears ran down her cheeks as she walked home briskly, trying not to look at the people she passed. She didn’t want her broken heart to be seen by one and all. She wanted to get home and weep in the privacy of her own surroundings.
She’d never go near the fancy posh patisserie on the Headrow ever again and she tried to clear Frankie Pearson and his foreign baking out of her head. She only hoped that he would not buy the bakery from Ted Lund on his return because she never wanted to see the man again.
‘Meg, is that you?’ Agnes called down the stairs and heaved herself up into a sitting position in her bed.
‘Yes, Mam, I’m back now. I’ll bring you a cuppa up and can you manage some dinner?’ Meg shouted back up the stairs then wiped her nose and her eyes on the apron that she put around her waist on entering the kitchen. The fire was nearly out and she tried to bring it to life with what sticks and coal that there were in the hearth.
She shook her head. Here was another man who had only been after what he could, she thought, as she stoked the fire into life and hoped that there was still some coal and sticks in the backyard left from Roger Ingram’s visits. She stood up, watching the fire’s flames lick around the newly added sticks and put the kettle on the hook above the fire.
‘No dinner, love, but I’d die for a cuppa. I’m feeling a lot better though today,’ Agnes shouted down and Meg smiled. At least her mother sounded a bit brighter this morning and there were no groans of pain from the bedroom above her.
Frankie Pearson could go and boil his head if he’d been leading her on, she thought, as she gazed out of the window and into the yard that had always been her home. She should have known she wasn’t good enough for him. How stupid she had been. She’d look after her mam and Sarah, and run the bakery until Ted returned, and then she would see what became of the mighty Frankie Pearson and his offer, if it ever happened! She could live without a man in her life. She had her family and true friends like Daisy. That was all that mattered.
‘Daisy told me today that some jobs are going at Hunslet Mill,’ she said to Sarah, who was seated at the table, working on some embroidery. ‘She knows one of the floor managers and he’s told her that they will be looking for some burlers and menders. It sounds like a good job, no mucky and dangerous machinery, you just check and mend the cloth for any defects or anything that’s left in the material like burrs or straw left from weaving the flax. She said it needs a good eye – that’s why she thought of you.’
‘It’s no good telling me that, I haven’t left school yet,’ Sarah said pointedly. ‘I thought that I had to stay there whether I liked it or not. You told me more times than I care to remember.’
‘I know, but our mam is getting worse. I might not always be able to work at the bakery – besides, Ted will be back shortly and he might not want to keep me on. We’ll need some money coming in from somewhere to keep all going.’ Meg knew that she was going back on what she had been drumming into her sister for weeks, but that was when she was confident that Ted would keep her on. Now she wondered different, especially after what Brenda Jones had said.
‘You mean, I can leave and take a job and you and Mam would be all right with it?’ Sarah looked in disbelief and sat back in her chair.
‘Yes, I’ll ask Daisy for more information next time I see her and then if you manage to secure yourself a job at the mill, I’ll go and see Miss Pringle and make it right with her. She knows you hate school and after all, you only have a few more weeks then you can legally leave. She knows our circumstances; as long as you have a job to leave to, she’ll be right with us.’
Meg hated having to saying what she did. She’d always vowed Sarah would be left in school as long as they could afford it, but she was preparing for the worst. Besides, burling and mending was a good job and ideal for Sarah. If she didn’t grab it now there might be nothing for her when she did leave school.
‘Oh, that has made my day,’ Sarah said. ‘I hate school, I hate Miss Pringle, and I’ll do anything to leave that place. I can’t believe you’ve said that. Tell Daisy if I’m sweeping floors and getting paid for it I don’t care, as long as I can get out of that prison of a place.’ She gave a huge grin.
‘You’ll have to prove your worth to them. You just don’t walk into a job. It’s different from school: if you don’t do as you are told, you’ll not get paid, and all mill owners talk to one another. If one gives you a black mark they all know about it, so you’ll have to behave yourself.’ Meg looked across at Sarah – it was clear nothing would wipe that happiness from her face.
‘I’d do anything to leave school and earn some money. You promise you’ll tell Daisy that I want the job and that you’ll see Miss Pringle?’ Sarah said excitedly.
‘I promise, but it will be up to you to secure the job and keep it,’ Meg warned her.
‘Can I go and tell Harry? I can’t wait until Sunday and I know he’ll be at home now. I can’t wait to see his face,’ Sarah said and hoped that she wasn’t about to get a lecture about the boy next door.
‘Go on then, but you haven’t got the job yet. No job, you stay at school!’ Meg shouted as Sarah made for the back door to climb the wall to tell Harry her news. However, she was soon back with a sullen look on her face. Harry was still hard at work, making every penny he could for his family.
Meg wandered up the stairs to her mother. She was weary with life, and things were not going her way. The more she thought about her time with Frankie Pearson, the more Brenda Jones’ words rang true. She had better keep her feet on the ground and know what she was and who she was. She’d never be anything other than a working-class lass who worked in a bakery and not perhaps long doing that if Ted Lund found out that she had stolen a shilling off him. Although she hadn’t meant to steal it, just borrow, where she would get a shilling to repay him she didn’t know. She couldn’t just take a shilling less – they needed her whole wage, and more. It seemed that the more she tried to mend her lot, the deeper she got herself into trouble, she thought, as she tried to smile at her mother then sat down by her side.
‘Did I hear you saying to Sarah that Daisy has found her a job? We shouldn’t encourage her to leave school; the authorities will be after us if they find out,’ Agnes said.
Meg gave a deep sigh. ‘If they come hunting for us they will be doing the same to half the families in Leeds, Mam. Besides, in a few weeks, she will have officially left and at least if she goes now she’s got a job to walk into. That is if she behaves herself when she gets offered it. I let her go and tell Harry her news; she can’t be parted from that lad no matter what, and they are as thick as thieves, those two. He’s still at work so she’ll go back later. Perhaps when she goes to work at the mill in Hunslet she’ll find some new friends and recognize that Harry is not the only one in the world.’
‘What about your French fella, our Meg? Have you heard from him of late?’ Agnes asked and saw the sadness on her daughter’s face.
‘No, I haven’t, Mam. I don’t think I’ll be seeing or hearing from him again. I’m not right for him and he’s not right for me. We should leave one another alone. Besides, I don’t need a man in my life.’ Meg gave a weak smile and pulled the covers up over her mother.
‘Someday you will, my Meg. Make sure you look after yourself as well as everybody else. The best years just fly by and before you know it, your life is over and you have passed so many opportunities by. Grab life with both hands, my lass, while you can and hold your head up high. You are just as good as anyone else, and don’t let anyone tell you any different.’
Agnes patted her daughter’s hand and closed her eyes. She’d heard her crying downstairs. She guessed Meg’s Frenchman had broken her heart, although she would never tell her that she knew, leastwise not till Meg felt she could talk to her about it.
She’d find true love, she was too bonny a lass not to and she had her head screwed on right when it came to money and life. It wasn’t Meg that Agnes fretted about. It was her other daughter, strong-willed like her real father. Hopefully if she got a job she would be more settled.