‘That’s a nasty bruise,’ said Cath, dabbing witch hazel on the purplish swelling on Molly’s shoulder. ‘You surprised me, Moll. You’re the blinkin’ heroine of the hour, if you ask me. I never thought you’d put yourself in danger for our Frank.’
Neither had Molly but she wondered what Cath would have made of her meeting up with Nathan. It was the following morning and she could scarcely move her arm. If she’d had work she wouldn’t have been able to do it. She gasped with pain as she flexed her fingers. ‘Fool more like,’ she murmured, but she felt more confident about herself somehow. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do for money. Mine’s almost gone.’
‘What about your shares?’
‘Wrong time to sell.’ Cath looked at her and she said, ‘Don’t say it. I haven’t any intention of cheating on Frank. Anyway, we’ve got to carry on pulling together. Tommy Mann’s threatening a general strike now.’ She sighed. ‘As if things weren’t bad enough. The scavengers are out now. The streets are a mess.’
‘Have you heard anything more about that man who was shot?’
‘He wasn’t the only one killed. Mrs McNally told me three are dead. One a young fella from Hopwood Street who was only putting shutters up to protect his property. He was hit by a stray bullet. He was getting married in a few weeks.’ Molly went over to the window and stared out, tears in her eyes. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then she said, ‘Where’s George?’
‘A couple of girls asked could they take him to Burroughs Gardens in the pram,’ said Cath, adding, ‘I suppose you could pawn that pram.’
‘I could. Frank’s not going to be pleased about it, though. Still, he’s in prison so how’s he to know?’ And it meant she could hang on to the last sovereign.
‘When are you going to visit our Frank?’ Cath put the witch hazel into a cardboard box with a red cross on it.
‘I’ll decide when I see your mother. She’s bound to call today.’
‘There’s no trams running.’
‘Then we’ll have to walk.’
‘I never thought I’d live to see the day, girl, when I’d be visiting Walton prison,’ said Ma, as they walked up Strand Road.
‘Me neither. But there it is,’ said Molly as they crossed the canal.
Soon they were hurrying through a maze of streets, discussing the situation in Liverpool. The threatened general strike had not materialised but there were warships in the Mersey and soldiers were guarding the power station which provided the hydraulics to open the dock gates. There had been looting before they took charge. Ships were arriving and departing but the dockers were still on strike. There again the soldiers had taken over.
The two women reached the footpath which ran through open fields to Hornby Road where the prison stood opposite the cemetery in the ancient parish of Walton. The streets were quiet today, the Corporation having enlisted five hundred special constables to ensure the peace. ‘It fair breaks me heart to think of me boy shut up in such a place,’ said Ma breathlessly as the gaol came into view.
Her boy again, thought Molly, but was able to sympathise with her mother-in-law somewhat today, imagining how she would feel if George were confined within its walls. Perhaps, too, she no longer felt such possessiveness towards Frank. She remembered reading that the grimy, red brick Victorian structure had been built around the same time as the potato famine. The sight of it was enough to chill her blood. She thought of the men who would never leave it again because they had an appointment with the hangman and shivered as they went through its gates.
But when she saw Frank she realised there was another kind of death to fear here. His eyes were lacklustre and in the short time since they had last seen him he had lost weight. ‘Aren’t they feeding you?’ asked Molly, reaching out a hand towards him.
‘I’m not hungry.’ His voice was so low she scarcely caught the words.
‘What did he say?’ said Ma, cupping a hand over her ear.
‘He’s not hungry.’
The older woman’s face worked as if it was about to crumple but she managed to say, ‘You’ve got to make yerself eat, me lad! What kind of attitude is that to take?’
He shrugged, averting his eyes.
Molly started to feel annoyed with him. ‘Your ma’s right, Frank. You’ll be out in less than a month and then everything’ll be back to normal. You’ve got to stop feeling sorry for yourself and eat.’
‘You mean, you’ll still be there waiting for me?’ This time he looked straight into her eyes.
The fury in his shocked her and caused her to stiffen. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘One of me mates said he saw you with a bloke.’ Frank’s voice was sullen. ‘What am I to think when you’ve been trying to keep me at a distance for I don’t know how long?’
Molly glanced at his mother and said in a low voice, ‘Well, it hasn’t worked, has it? Anyway, I’ve spoken to lots of fellas over this past week. What day would this mate be talking about? The day you left me stranded up the Wellington monument with George or the day they carted you off here and I got hit by one of the soldiers? I was glad of a Good Samaritan both times, Frank Payne. And why? Because you were too wrapped up in your cause to protect me. Perhaps you’d like to see my bruises?’ She began to undo her blouse with her left hand. ‘I’ve got a lovely one on my shoulder, shaped just like the map of Africa. It’s a beautiful shade of yellow.’
‘Stop that!’ he hissed, shooting out his hand. ‘I don’t want my wife—’
‘Then don’t go accusing me of something that’s not true,’ Molly retorted.
There was silence and she could see he was having an inner struggle with himself. Eventually he mumbled, ‘Sorry, Moll. I just feel mad when I think of you carrying on with that bargee.’
‘Bargee?’ She was flabbergasted and for a moment could not think who on earth he was talking about. Then, ‘You don’t mean Jack Fletcher?’ she cried. ‘He’s old enough to be me dad, and besides I haven’t seen him for ages. So stop being daft. Eat up your greens and come home ready to get back to work because we’re going to be skint.’
Frank looked baffled. ‘You really haven’t seen him?’
‘Of course I haven’t. Anyway, I look upon him as an uncle.’
He appeared to pull himself together, easing back his shoulders and holding his head higher. ‘Sorry, Moll. It’s this place, it gets you down.’
She forced a smile. ‘You just think of getting back to work.’
‘I don’t know if they’ll take me,’ he said gloomily, shoulders drooping again.
‘Of course they will!’ She knew she had to be positive. ‘You’re not a thief or a murderer. Now stop upsetting your mother.’
‘Sorry, Ma.’ He looked abashed.
She began to talk to him in a soothing voice.
Relieved, Molly sat back, letting the words wash over her, wondering who had mentioned Jack to him and why.
It was not until the two women had left the prison that Ma said, ‘Was yer telling the truth back there, girl, about the bargee?’
‘Of course I was telling the truth. D’you think I’d lie about it?’ Molly hoisted herself up on to the top of the cemetery wall and sat there, holding her face to the sun. It was a warm day with a slight breeze and she felt much better now she was outside.
‘Yer might.’
She opened her eyes and watched her mother-in-law take off her shoe to flick out a stone. ‘I knew a lad once who got a nail through his shoe,’ said Molly conversationally. ‘He was dead within the week.’ She stretched out her legs, gazing at the dust-covered tan boots, thinking how they had once belonged to Nathan’s wife whose grave he still put flowers on. Her heart ached for him.
Ma gave her an exasperated look. ‘What’s any of that got to do with what I just asked yer, madam?’
‘Nothing, I suppose. But I can tell you straight I haven’t been carrying on with Jack Fletcher or any other bargee. And if you don’t believe me, you can just lump it.’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t believe yer,’ said Ma placatingly. ‘And I know yer did get hurt because our Cath told me about yer bruise. Said it was enormous.’
Molly smiled. ‘That’s OK then. Are you ready to go?’ She lowered herself down from the top of the wall and dusted her skirts.
They began to walk towards the footpath. ‘Why don’t yer leave that house and come and live with me?’ said Ma. ‘We’ll manage better altogether. I’ll be able to look after George while you carry on with yer sewing. Our Cath can come back too. We’d all be better off.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Molly diplomatically.
‘Well, don’t think about it too long,’ grunted Ma. ‘I’ve taken in a couple of lodgers and I’d have to give them notice to quit.’
Molly parted from her near the canal in Stanley Road, pausing on the bridge, glad to rest her weary feet. She glanced down at the water and remembered the morning she had escaped Ma’s house. She thought of the real Jessica Collins buried in St John’s graveyard and sadness swept over her. Poor little girl! But at least she lay with her mother and was in no danger of being moved since Frank had warned Ma not to interfere and written to the priest as well. Thank God he’d accepted what she’d said back at the prison. He’d given her such a fright at first. But where did he get the idea that she was seeing a bargee?
As if on cue a barge came gliding by. ‘You couldn’t give me a ride as far as Athol Street gasworks, could you?’ called Molly, thinking it would save her feet.
‘So long as thee’s not in a hurry, lass,’ said the boatman.
She glanced round to check Ma wasn’t hiding nearby, spying on her, then made her way to the towpath. She accepted a helping hand aboard and settled herself in the stern, eyes on the boy leading the horse along the towpath, envious of what appeared at that moment to be a wonderfully tranquil life.
‘I’ve seen thee with Jack Fletcher,’ said the bargee abruptly.
‘Not for a while,’ said Molly hastily, but not surprised because he would know Jack and she vaguely remembered seeing him before. ‘How is he?’
‘Wife’s just passed away.’
‘Poor Uncle Jack.’
‘I don’t know if he sees it like that, lass,’ rumbled the man, a smile creasing his tanned face. ‘She was a bit of a tartar.’ He paused, puffing on his pipe. ‘He’ll be getting another woman in her place. His youngest’s getting married and living on the barge.’
Molly nodded. ‘He’s marrying Marie McNally who lives in our street.’ Suddenly she remembered that she and Marie had hair almost the same colour and were of similar build and height. She would tell Frank that when she saw him again.
It wasn’t too long before she was limping up Ascot Street. Mrs McNally was sitting on her front step with George perched on the lower one, watching a group of boys playing five stones. He jumped up when he saw his mother and held out his arms. Molly swung him into the air, wincing as she did so because of her shoulder. ‘How’s my beautiful boy? Have you been good?’
‘Of course he’s been good. He wouldn’t dare be anything else with me,’ said Mrs McNally with a chuckle. ‘How did yer find yer man, girl?’
Molly sank on to the step beside her, glad that Mrs McNally had never said a word to her about Nathan’s turning up on the day George was born. ‘He’s worrying about getting his job back… and Ma Payne wants me to go and live with her but I don’t want to.’
‘It never works, girl. Needs must sometimes but best on your own.’
‘That’s what I think. I just hope the strike finishes soon.’
‘Me too. I’ll be glad to have my man back on full time again.’
Molly nodded.
‘Our Doris was here.’
‘How is she? It seems ages since I’ve seen her, with all that’s been happening.’
‘It’s not that long, girl. But she had little Jessica with her. She’s growing into a smasher. Behaved like a right little mother to George.’
Molly was surprised to hear it. Disappointed too. ‘I’m sorry to have missed them.’
Mrs McNally seemed to hesitate before saying, ‘Yer’ve only just missed them. They could still be at the factory. Yer’ll have to take George with you, though, if you’re going.’ Molly was already getting to her feet.
She hurried down the street as fast as she could, giving George a piggyback. She was in luck. Doris was playing ball with Jessica in the forecourt where one of those noisy, foul-smelling horseless carriages was parked. Jessica caught sight of them and dropped the ball. She ran towards them just as Nathan came out of the factory, accompanied by a fashionably dressed young woman.
Molly put George down and caught hold of her daughter’s hands as Nathan walked towards them. ‘Molly, what are you doing here? Not that it’s not nice to see you.’
‘Mr Collins,’ she said circumspectly, inclining her head, glad she had put on her Sunday best to visit Frank.
‘So this is our other shareholder?’ said his companion, gazing at Molly with a birdlike brightness in her eyes. ‘It’s about time we met.’ She held out a hand. ‘I’m Charlotte Braithwaite. How do you do?’
Molly had expected a Yorkshire accent but Miss Braithwaite spoke in well-modulated Standard English. They shook hands and Molly wished she could afford a hat as frivolous as the one Charlotte was wearing with its bird-of-paradise feathers and froth of veiling. ‘It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard lots about you.’
‘Not all good, I bet,’ said Charlotte with a chuckle. ‘Nat hates a woman who knows her mind.’
‘That’s not true. If her mind is running on the same lines as mine, that’s fine.’ He winked at Molly.
Charlotte’s plump lips parted and her almond-shaped eyes widened. ‘I saw that. I believe you and Nat are distantly related, Mrs Payne, and that’s why Mr Barnes left you shares in the company?’
Startled, Molly glanced at Nathan but got no help there. She cleared her throat and decided to go along with what he’d said. ‘Yes, we’re second or third cousins.’
‘You must join us for dinner so we can have a chat. That’s all right, isn’t it, Nat? I’m sure we can squeeze her into the motor.’ Charlotte did not wait for his answer but loosened the veiling wrapped round the brim of her hat, and fastened it beneath her chin in readiness for the journey.
‘Yes, do come, Molly,’ he said with a gleam in his eyes.
She was not about to turn down the chance of a free dinner or the opportunity to spend time with him. Besides she was hoping to discover why he had lied about her being left the shares. ‘I’ll fetch George.’
‘I’ll get him.’
Before Molly could move Nathan swung her son up, whirling him round before placing him on his shoulders.
‘I’m not pleased, Daddy,’ said Jessica, running after them. ‘I want you to lift me up there.’
‘What’s going on?’ hissed Doris to Molly.
‘What’s it look like? I’m getting a free dinner.’
‘Have yer forgotten yer’ve a husband?’
‘No. Now shut up, I want to enjoy this. I’ve never been in a motor before.’
Doris’s lips tightened but Molly turned her back on her. She desperately needed to forget her troubles for a while.
Charlotte slid behind the steering wheel and ordered Nathan to crank the engine. Jessica called to him, ‘I’m going to have one of these one day, aren’t I, Daddy?’
‘Not if I have any say in it,’ he said, handing George to Molly before inserting the cranking handle.
Doris closed her eyes, clutching at the seat with both hands as the motor shuddered into life. ‘Give me me own two legs any day,’ she muttered.
‘It’s progress, Doris.’ Molly’s face shone. Suddenly she felt alive and almost carefree. The last few weeks, no, the last couple of years, had been a terrible strain at times. Now for just a little while she was going to enjoy Nathan’s company and her daughter’s, as well as a meal cooked by a woman she rated as highly as Maggie Block on the gastronomic front. ‘Drive on, Miss Braithwaite! Full speed ahead,’ she called.
‘You’re a woman after my own heart,’ shouted Charlotte, pulling down her goggles. ‘Forward, Boadicea!’ As Nathan climbed aboard the motor trundled forward.
‘That was lovely,’ said Molly, exhilarated despite her watering eyes and windburned face. She stepped down on to the driveway of Falconstone and turned to lift George down but Nathan was there before her.
‘I’ll take him,’ he said, swinging the boy up into the air and holding him there a moment. George’s arms and legs flailed in the air but he was laughing as he smiled down into the man’s face. Nathan lowered him to the ground and called Doris over. ‘Take George and Jessica to the nursery and give them tea.’
‘Yes, Mr Collins,’ she said woodenly.
‘And tell Cook there’ll be one extra for dinner.’
Doris went, muttering to herself as she seized the children’s hands and led them round to the back of the house.
Molly was aware of her friend’s disapproval but was determined to enjoy herself nevertheless.
‘I’m glad you liked the trip,’ said Charlotte, removing her goggles. ‘I love speed.’
‘That thing’s a monster. Too powerful really for a woman.’ Nathan inserted the key in the front door and stood to one side. ‘After you two.’
‘You really are maddening, Nat,’ said Charlotte, easing off a glove. ‘The automobile is the transport of the future and will be driven by women all over the country one day.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he said smoothly, ‘as you are about so many things.’
‘Now you’re being sarcastic,’ she sang, tapping him under the chin with her glove as she swept past him.
He ignored the remark. ‘I’m sure you’d like to clean up, Molly? You’ve smuts on your face.’ Before she realised what he was about he reached out and rubbed her nose. She pulled away, wondering what he thought he was doing with Charlotte there.
‘Perhaps you’d like to borrow something to wear?’ said the other woman.
‘No, thank you,’ said Molly with a smile. ‘But I would like to wash.’
‘Then I’d best take you up, seeing as Mrs Collins doesn’t appear to have heard us come in.’
Molly whirled round and stared at Nathan. ‘You didn’t mention your mother was home?’
‘She only arrived yesterday.’
‘How is she?’ Molly’s newfound confidence was in danger of evaporating. Just the thought of that woman did something to her.
‘I couldn’t leave her there indefinitely, Molly,’ he said gently.
That was no answer, she thought. ‘Will she be joining us for supper?’ Molly’s voice shook in trepidation.
‘Most probably. Don’t worry about it. She’s a lot better.’ He left them then, taking the stairs two at a time.
‘You know Mrs Collins, of course,’ said Charlotte, as they followed him upstairs.
‘Yes.’
‘She’s a most peculiar woman,’ mused Charlotte. ‘Comes out with the strangest remarks when you think she hasn’t been listening. Was she like that when you last met her?’
‘Yes.’ Molly realised Charlotte must have no idea what her position had been in this house. Was that why Nathan had lied? Perhaps she should be grateful to him. After all, Charlotte would definitely have treated her differently if she’d known Molly was once a nursemaid.
‘Still, she hasn’t been well so we must excuse her. This is where we part. You’ll find the bathroom at the very end of the landing.’
Molly limped to the bathroom, locking the door and resting her back against it, attempting to calm herself. Was Mrs Collins better, as Nathan seemed to believe, or was that wishful thinking on his part? What if she became violent again? What if she spoke of getting rid of Jessica and harped about her belonging to Molly? Would Nathan continue to pass her words off as madness? But she realised she would get no answers until she saw the woman for herself.
Molly sat at the oval mahogany dining table, her stomach rumbling with hunger. Mrs Collins was seated between Nathan and herself but so far his mother appeared not to have noticed her.
‘Well, this is cosy,’ said Charlotte who was wearing an Alice blue gown with a white broderie anglaise insert in the bodice and panels of the skirt. She looked pretty and was seated on Nathan’s right.
No, you’re quite wrong! thought Molly. For her the word ‘cosy’ conjured up a small room with the fire glowing red in the grate, children playing on a rug, and her with her boots off, toasting her toes with the man she loved beside her while rain beat against the window.
‘It’s at this time of day I most miss Papa,’ said Charlotte with a sigh. ‘Your father’s dead too, I believe, Mrs Payne?’
‘I never knew him,’ said Molly, watching Flo ladle asparagus soup into her bowl. ‘He died when I was only small, crushed between a barge and the lock wall on the Leeds-Liverpool canal.’
‘How dreadful!’
‘Dangerous places, canals,’ said Mrs Collins, startling them both. She bent her head as she sucked up soup from her spoon. ‘A body could easily go in. A foot in a coil of rope. Splash!’
Molly shivered. It was as if icy fingers were running up and down her back, like the keys on a piano.
‘We’re not near the canal so we don’t have to worry about that, Mother,’ said Nathan. ‘You must stop living in the past.’
She made no sign of having heard him but continued noisily to drink her soup.
Roast chicken followed, accompanied by boiled potatoes, tiny new peas, carrots and turnips. Molly drowned her food in a pool of Cook’s marvellous gravy, determined not to let Mrs Collins’s presence spoil her meal.
Charlotte talked about the factory and her silversmith’s venture. Nathan said little. He had opened a bottle of wine and filled their glasses. Molly took a sip of the amber liquid which glowed in the light of tapering candles in a silver candelabra set in the centre of the table. She chanced a look in his mother’s direction and was met by an unblinking stare. Mrs Collins waved her fork in Molly’s direction, dropping potato on the damask tablecloth, and said in a quavering voice, ‘I’ve seen you before.’
‘It’s Molly May that was, Mother,’ said Nathan.
‘Ha, Mabel’s daughter! I knew her father.’
‘Tell me, Mrs Payne,’ said Charlotte, smiling across at her, ‘is your husband a man of education? Nathan tells me he’s been involved in this most damaging strike, helping the working classes.’
Molly almost dropped her glass. She looked at Nathan. Was he inventing her a new background so she was more acceptable to Charlotte? Two could play at that game, she thought. ‘Yes. He travels a lot and likes to read. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is one of his favourite authors.’
‘Sherlock Holmes?’ Charlotte’s eyes gleamed. ‘I admire the plots. Although I’m certain a woman could do better.’
‘If you mean women’s minds are more devious, I’d agree,’ said Nathan, downing half the wine in his glass and refilling it. ‘Take Catherine Flanagan, for instance.’
‘Who?’ said Molly.
His gaze was fixed on her flushed face and she felt a fluttering in her stomach. ‘Listen, Moll, and you’ll find out,’ he said softly. ‘She wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of her making money. Even members of her own family.’
‘Poison,’ said Mrs Collins unexpectedly. ‘Little girl.’
‘That’s right, Mother. My father told me the story. She was at the centre of a famous trial in Liverpool in the 1880s. She and her sister killed several people, including members of their own family. They’d insured them with several different insurance companies then afterwards collected the burial money.’
‘Wasn’t your father,’ said Mrs Collins.
‘Yes, it was. I remember exactly where he sat when he told me of it. He frightened the life out of me. I was only a kid then.’
‘How did they poison people?’ asked Charlotte, leaning towards him, face rapt.
‘Soaked fly papers in water. Arsenic,’ muttered Mrs Collins. ‘Specks of it on the clothing. Have to wash them carefully.’
‘Did they hang?’ said Charlotte.
‘Of course they did,’ said Nathan, glancing at his mother. ‘Someone got suspicious despite their moving to a different house before killing their last victim. The bodies were exhumed and as Mother said, they found arsenic. So should all poisoners perish,’ he said with relish. ‘Have you finished, Moll? I believe there’s treacle pudding for afters. More wine?’
‘So long as it’s not poisoned.’ She held out her glass.
He smiled. ‘It’s me that has the money so why should I poison you? But I’ve been thinking of helping you because of Frank’s little trouble. I was wondering if you’d like Mrs Arkwright’s job? Her sister’s seriously ill and she has a young family. Mrs Arkwright feels it her duty to go and look after them.’
Molly flushed with pleasure. She did not know what to say. She would love the job. Sometimes she felt lonely working on her own. Her first instinct was to say yes, but commonsense soon came into play. What was he thinking of? What was she? How long did he think her husband was going to be in prison? ‘I’d love it,’ she said softly, ‘but Frank’s only going to be away a month.’
Nathan’s face fell. ‘Why don’t you think about it? Stay the night here and sleep on it?’
‘That’s a good idea,’ said Charlotte, nodding vigorously. ‘Then we could take Mrs Payne into Liverpool first thing and she could speak to Mrs Arkwright before making up her mind. I’m all for us women being involved in business.’
Molly was tempted, she really was, but knew it just couldn’t be. She couldn’t expect Mrs McNally to look after George every day. ‘I can’t stay. My sister-in-law lodges with me and she’ll worry if I don’t go home.’
‘Hell, Molly!’ said Nathan, looking exasperated. ‘She’s not your keeper. Besides, how are you going to get back? There are no trains or trains. George can sleep in the nursery with Jessica.’
‘No.’ She panicked. God only knew what might happen between them if she stayed. She rose to her feet, pushing back her chair. ‘Well, I’d best start now.’
‘Let the girl go. She’s no use to us,’ mumbled Mrs Collins.
Molly glanced at her but saw nothing in her expression to worry her. ‘They’re the most sensible words you’ve spoken so far this evening, Mrs Collins,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Good night!’ She moved towards the door.
Nathan stood up. ‘Why don’t you see if George is asleep? It’d be selfish to wake him. I’ll come up with you.’
‘Don’t forget, we need to be out early tomorrow,’ called Charlotte. ‘There’s a meeting of the Women’s Social and Political Union in London which I mean to attend. It’s a pity you can’t come with me, Mrs Payne. I’m sure you’d find it interesting.’
‘I’m sure I would,’ Molly said without turning round. ‘It really has been nice meeting you.’ And she hurried into the hall.
Nathan was not far behind. Molly took one look at his face and fled upstairs.
‘There’s no need to run away from me,’ he said, catching up with her at the top of the stairs. ‘You couldn’t have spelled it out more clearly that you don’t want me fouling up your resolution to stand by Frank. But it won’t do, Molly. George is too damn’ much like me.’
She whirled round. ‘He isn’t!’
‘I’ve a photograph to prove it in my room. Come and have a look?’
‘No!’
‘Why not? I’ll keep my hands to myself, promise.’
‘It’s not that.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You can believe what you want.’ She just wanted to get home. This whole day was proving traumatic.
He seized her arm. ‘Well, you’re damn’ well going to look at it! I want a son and this photograph proves he’s mine.’ He seized her arm and hustled her along the landing.
‘Even if it’s true, why do you have to make things so difficult for me?’ she said in a low voice.
‘Don’t you think this whole situation’s difficult for me too?’ He pushed open a bedroom door and pulled her inside, leading her across the room to a chest of drawers on which stood a framed photograph. ‘This used to be my uncle’s room, as you know, and this is me at three.’
She stared at the photograph and was immediately convinced. Yes, here was George’s image almost. Nathan with fair hair, chubby-cheeked and glowering at the camera but with that way of holding his head to one side when he was angry.
‘Don’t you think he’s got a look of Jessica too?’
Molly’s heart turned over. She knew she couldn’t admit to this. ‘Who? You in this photograph?’
‘George?’
‘Oh, I thought you meant you here.’ She laughed lightly. ‘I could say yes but the shape of the chin’s all wrong.’
‘That’s because he has your chin and your eyes, but for the rest I think he’s growing to look like me here.’ Nathan tapped the glass.
She could not admit it. What would he do if she did? What would Frank do? Oh, God! He might kill the pair of them. He’d assaulted that policeman and he’d tracked her down before when she went missing. She had to stop this right now, for all their sakes. And the best way was suddenly clear to her. ‘If we’re related then he will look like us both.’
Nathan’s expression froze. ‘I don’t believe it! Why don’t you want him to be my son? He could follow in my footsteps, take over the factory after me. I could give you so much more than Frank.’ He seized her by the arms. ‘Stay here, both of you, not just for tonight but forever. Divorce Frank.’
‘Divorce?’ Molly was stunned.
‘You can’t love him,’ said Nathan desperately. ‘A man who’s violent. He might beat George. It would be much better if my son was brought up with Jessica, half-brother and sister together. Eventually we could get married.’
It sounded wonderful. Molly was trembling inside, longing to do what he said, but it would create a terrible scandal. ‘It would ruin you. Who’s our main customer? The Church!’
She could see by his expression he had not thought of that. Then his face set and he squeezed her hand. ‘I don’t care. We’ll move away. Find other customers.’
She was touched that he would be prepared to do that for her but couldn’t let him. What had he said only months ago when Charlotte had threatened to sell her share in the business to strangers? He cared for that business. And what about Charlotte too? It could leave her in a mess. Theirs was a specialised business and would there be buyers interested in it, with the strike and the way everything was so unsettled? Molly put a hand to her head. And what about Jessica? Molly hadn’t done what she had for Jessica to become the child of a poor man. She had to be strong.
‘You can’t do it. I won’t let you.’ She had to convince him that there was no future for. She took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘I’ve made vows, Nathan, before God. I broke them once unintentionally, I mustn’t do so again. Forget me and forget George. Besides, what kind of woman would people think me if I went off with a rich man while my husband was in gaol? It’d be a bit like the Bible where David wanted Bathsheba and got rid of her husband by sending him to the battle front.’
‘If only I could!’ Nathan’s voice broke on a laugh.
They stared at one another and there was a long silence. Then he said in a bitter voice, ‘You still love Frank.’ Molly forced herself not to deny it. ‘You’ve been stringing me along all this time.’ Still she remained silent, lowering her eyes so she couldn’t see the hurt and anger in his eyes. ‘Go back to him. But he’s not having George. I could keep him here right now and you couldn’t prevent me. I will not have him catching some horrible disease in those miserable streets. I want him to have a good life.’
Molly’s head shot up. ‘So do I,’ she said fiercely. ‘But what do I tell Frank when he comes home? “Oh, your son’s gone to live in Blundellsands? I thought it better for his health”?’
‘You can tell Frank he’s died.’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘You’re mad!’
‘Mad for my son like I was once mad for you, Molly. You think about it. I’d best join Charlotte. Come down when you’ve pulled yourself together.’ He opened the door and slammed it after him.
Her legs felt like India rubber and she sank on to the bed. Never had she thought her own son would be the one to replace her daughter in Nathan’s affections. But he was not going to have the boy. She slowly turned the handle of the door and listened to Nathan’s receding footsteps. Then, when she knew he was downstairs, she tiptoed to the nursery. To her relief Doris was alone, sewing in front of the fire. ‘So yer’ve come to show yer face, have yer?’ she said grumpily.
Molly made no answer but went over to the cot and carefully lifted out her sleeping son. He murmured and his limbs twitched. She hushed him, suddenly furious with Nathan for frightening her into believing he could take George from her. ‘I’m going out the back way. Will you lock the door behind me?’
‘Fell out with him, have yer?’
‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’
‘Suit yerself,’ said Doris with a sniff.
‘I’ll tell you another time but not right now. Please, open the door for me?’
With ill grace, Doris did as she was asked. Once outside the house Molly realised it was going to take her hours to walk home with feet that were already sore. And what guarantee was there that when she arrived home Nathan wouldn’t come chasing after her in Miss Braithwaite’s motor? She must hide somewhere else until he calmed down. It was then she remembered Ma and the invitation to move in with her.