FROM A FLAWLESS teapot garlanded with pale-blue forget-me-nots, Ivy poured tea into three delicate cups and placed a matching plate on the lace-edged cloth. ‘Barley cake, sir?’ she proffered stiffly.
Oliver Bailey ran a finger beneath his stiff collar. ‘Thank you, Mrs Morgan.’
Sipping their tea, she and Sally watched him warily as he took large bites of the generous slice.
He popped the last piece into his mouth, swallowed and cleared his throat. ‘Well, now. Isn’t it pleasant to sit, have tea and discuss matters amiably?’
Ivy stared back blankly.
Unperturbed, he continued. ‘Firstly, allow me to make one thing quite clear. I did not come here to in any way bully Mrs Goden, as you so slanderously put it, into anything whatsoever. Neither, madam, will I be spoken to in such a disrespectful fashion. Do we understand one another?’
Hostility thickened the air. She placed her cup in its saucer and folded her arms. The local preacher was a formidable man, widely feared by his parishioners, which, she suspected, he knew and relished only too well. He put the fear of God, literally, into most but she – all seven stones of her – was afraid of no one.
‘For what reason are you here? You were shouting at the lass summat shocking just now and I for one didn’t like the tone of your voice.’
‘Madam! I—’
‘Please, both of you, enough.’
Ivy and the preacher turned in surprise.
‘He wants me to return home to my husband.’ Sally lifted a hand as Ivy made to respond. ‘Please, Mrs Morgan, let me finish.’
Ivy stared in open-mouthed admiration at her sudden change.
Steely-eyed, Sally addressed the preacher. ‘Sir, I will never, never again dwell with my husband. I don’t intend burdening Mrs Morgan much longer – though I’ll be eternally grateful to you and your family for treating my child and me as you have. You’ve been wonderful,’ she added to Ivy, squeezing her hand.
‘Mrs Goden, may I remind you that you are a married woman and that your rightful place is by your husband’s hearth—’
‘No, sir! No more! That man has beat me since the day we wed. He’s done things to me, terrible things, treated me in ways I cannot bring myself to mention; things you wouldn’t believe. He stripped away everything I was and for years, I sat back and allowed him. Well, no more.’ She swiped away angry tears with the back of her hand. ‘I will never return. It’s finished, sir, finished. Nothing and no one on God’s green earth will ever change my mind.’
Sitting back, he brushed an imaginary crumb from his black garb and Ivy stifled a grin. She could almost hear his cogs of thought turning – this wasn’t going as he’d obviously planned!
‘Our good Lord weeps at such talk,’ the preacher cried passionately, piercing eyes gleaming with religious zeal. ‘He wept to see I had to browbeat you and your husband to attend chapel when you moved here. He weeps still that He does not see you as regularly as He should. An ocean of holy tears! You, madam, are under my jurisdiction. Trouble amongst my parishioners, I will not tolerate.’
‘Nothing and no one will change my mind,’ Sally repeated.
A slight smile touched his mouth. ‘Nothing, Mrs Goden?’ he asked slowly, almost deliberately. ‘Not even your child?’
Ivy’s eyes narrowed. ‘’Ere, hang on—’
‘My … child?’
He blinked, his face a picture of innocence. ‘Surely you are aware that a man has full claim to his children, even over the mother? Your husband would be well within his rights to walk in here at this very moment if he so wished and take his child from you. That is not what you want, is it? I’m sure matters are not nearly as bad as they seem. All marriages have their difficulties but they can be resolved. Now, your husband—’
‘He’s sent you here to threaten me, hasn’t he? Hasn’t he? He has, hasn’t he!’
‘Madam, control yourself! Your husband is residing with his sister – a Mrs Russell, I believe – on Deansgate and indeed, he has asked me to visit to remind you of your wifely duties. He feels coming himself would not be wise owing to Mr Morgan’s threatening behaviour—’
Ivy’s angry gasp interrupted him but he continued before she could protest.
‘He wants you home, madam, and rightly so. The poor man has not even seen his child. Now, as your confinement is over, I suggest you collect your belongings at once and I will escort you home.’ Seemingly blind to their horrified expressions, he drained his cup. ‘Have you given thought to the baptism? I shall be free tomorrow evening if you and your husband would care to discuss the matter.’
Smiling, he rose. ‘Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Morgan,’ he drawled with barely suppressed sarcasm, ‘and for taking such good care of Mrs Goden and the child.’ To Sally, he added firmly, ‘Come along. Let’s get you home where you belong.’
Ivy was speechless. The snidy, slippery old … However, Sally stunned her further by rising from the table. ‘You’ve never let him talk you into returning to that lunatic?’
‘Mrs Morgan, I have warned you already. You will respect my authority.’
‘Oh, authority tripe! I’m not frickened of you, you bullying owd tyrant, yer.’
‘How dare you!’
‘It’s all right, Mrs Morgan.’
Their furious exchange ended abruptly when Sally opened the door.
The preacher smiled smugly and strode forward. ‘Ah, sensible girl! Fetch the child, come alon—’ The last word rattled in his throat as Sally gripped his collar and shook him hard.
Yanking him close until his startled face was inches from hers, she murmured, ‘Tell my husband he will never set eyes on my son so long as I breathe. And,’ she added, pulling him closer, ‘if you know what’s good for you, you will stay away from us, too.’ She flung him through the door and slammed it shut. Sagging against it, she closed her eyes, her breathing ragged.
‘Oh, love. That were … That were bleedin’ brilliant!’
A dazed Sally dropped into a chair. Beside her, pressing her apron to her mouth, Ivy bent double with mirth.
For several minutes, the cottage rang with their stunned laughter.
‘Oh, Mrs Morgan, what on earth possessed me? I threw a clergyman through the door and spoke to him like muck. He simply enraged me speaking of Joseph as though he were the victim. As for threatening me with my son, I wasn’t standing for that. I … snapped. He won’t let this slide; as if I need further enemies.’
‘Love, it’ll be all right. Owd Bailey won’t do owt. He’d not dare; not after that, anyroad!’ Chuckling when Sally moaned and covered her face with her hands, Ivy put her arm around her shoulders. ‘Look, I can fair understand why you did what you did, and if you hadn’t of thrown that owd sod out on his ear, I would’ve.
‘He pushed you to it and no one round here will blame you; they’ll bleedin’ well shake your hand, lass. It’s my fault, anyroad. I should never have gone out without telling thee. Leaving the door open like that, what were I thinking?’
‘You weren’t to know. I heard knocking and was not about to open the door, naturally, but he walked in, bold as you like. I got the shock of my life, I can tell you. For a moment, I thought it was Joseph.’ Sally shuddered. ‘At least it was the preacher and not him.’
‘He just come marching in? Well, of all the … He’s a bullying owd swine if ever there were one. Now come on,’ she added with a smile as tears welled in Sally’s eyes, ‘dry up, lass, and see to the babby. There’s no use upsetting yourself, for what’s done is done.’ Nodding, Sally made to leave but Ivy clasped her hand. ‘I don’t think you’ve owt to fret about with him, love, but I promise, whatever happens – with him or Joseph – I’m here for thee. Just you remember that.’
Avoiding Sally’s face, she cleared her throat, embarrassed at revealing the extent of her feelings. She felt protective of this lass as if she were one of her own.
Tears spilling, Sally sank to her knees and rested her head in Ivy’s lap. Choking back tears herself, Ivy stroked her thick, chestnut-coloured hair.
‘You’ve been so good to me. I’m sorry I was such a nuisance lying in bed all day while you waited on me hand and foot. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, Mrs Morgan, you have been good to me, all of you,’ Sally insisted when Ivy clicked her tongue. ‘All you’ve done … for Jonathan also – you and Mr Morgan must be exhausted with the broken sleep. Even your sons made sacrifices, giving up a bed for me and having to share.
‘You’ve rescued me, given me back my life. No one could be as good a friend as you. In fact, you’ve been more like a mother. Thank you, so very much.’
Looking into blue eyes brimming with tears of gratitude, bright and brilliant in her heart-shaped face, it struck Ivy how attractive Sally was. She frowned curiously. ‘What age are you, love?’
Sally smiled, revealing pearl-like teeth framed by full lips, transforming her face into one of even more beauty. ‘Twenty-one.’ Slowly, her eyebrows drew together. ‘Twenty-one … I feel much older, Mrs Morgan.’
‘I knew you were young, but … By God, what age did you wed that husband of yourn?’
‘Sixteen, just.’
‘How did you meet, lass? It’s just you don’t sound like you’re from these parts; talk reet nice, you do.’
Sally’s smile returned. ‘I had a very dear friend who spoke ever so nicely. We were fascinated by each other’s accents, would roll around laughing for hours asking one another to say certain words.’ Her eyes filled with longing. ‘I began speaking as she did. I worshipped her, wanted to be just like her, and she loved teaching me.
‘She was my complete opposite – soft and gentle, whereas I was loud and quick-tempered.’ She laughed when Ivy’s eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, believe me, I wasn’t always a pushover. I miss Dicksy so very much.’
Recalling the incident with Oliver Bailey, Ivy nodded. ‘Aye, thinking on it, I can fair believe that. You’re a dark horse beneath. And Dicksy? There’s a queer name if ever I heard one.’
‘Isobella Dickinson,’ she murmured. ‘We never addressed one another by our given names.’ She smiled softly. ‘To me she was Dicksy and I was Silly Sally.’
‘And Joseph?’
Sally released a long sigh. Eyes vacant, she stared into the depths of the fire. ‘He bought me, Mrs Morgan. He bought me.’
After a moment of stunned silence, her gasp pierced the air. ‘He what?’
As though lost in the hypnotic flames, Sally continued in an emotionless tone. ‘I grew up in the workhouse. I knew he was evil the second I laid eyes on him, I just knew, but didn’t believe anything could be worse than living in that place, not after Dicksy left.’ A hollow laugh caught in her throat. ‘How wrong I was.’
‘Mother of God. What’s the world coming to?’
‘Girls were usually sent into service upon reaching fourteen. I believe that’s what happened with Dicksy. The master summoned her to his office one day and I never saw her again. What she was doing in that place, I have no idea. It was clear she was of good breeding. She cried a great deal in the beginning but never spoke of her family, and I didn’t ask. I hated speaking of my own, it hurt too much, and understood she felt the same.
‘The parting broke my heart. I thought I’d be stuck in that hellhole the remainder of my days. The master said no employer would want me, that I was too pretty. He said ladies insist upon having unattractive girls working for them so their husbands and sons are less inclined to try something they shouldn’t.
‘He sold me to Joseph, instead. It happened often. If the price was right, of course,’ Sally finished bitterly. She rose and crossed to the window. She folded her arms, and her tearful gaze swept the hills. ‘How much do you think he paid, Mrs Morgan?’
‘Lass, you don’t have to—’
‘A shilling. He bought me for the princely sum of one shilling.’
Ivy cringed with pity.
‘I was sold like cattle at the market for a single shilling. And my God, he never let me forget it.’
‘Ay, lass.’ As she made to rise, Sally gave a soft smile.
‘Oh, it’s all right, really. That part of my life is finished, as is my marriage. All he wanted the day he came searching for a wife was a servant he didn’t have to pay. Someone to keep his home clean and bed warm. Someone like me. A workhouse rat with no one to care where I was or how I fared. For years, he enjoyed that power, but he won’t any more. It was the final nail in the coffin, what he threatened before you walked in—’ She clamped her mouth shut.
Seeing revulsion ripple through her, Ivy shook her head. ‘Dear Lord, he never did …’
‘But it’s all right, now, it will be all right,’ Sally continued passionately. ‘I have my son and never will I let anything happen to him. I’m not giving Joseph the opportunity to hurt me again. He’ll take my child from me given the chance, believe me, he will. But he shall have to find us first. Monday, we’ll go to Manchester.’
‘Manchester?’
‘My mother’s sister dwells there – Ancoats. I’ve dreamed of finding her for years. The preacher’s words made up my mind; I must try. I remember visiting as a child, before my father passed away. Afterwards, my mother couldn’t make ends meet. She tried. My God, how she tried. But she was weak, in mind and body. It was either throw herself and her daughter upon the workhouse’s mercy or starve.
‘She died the following month, though no one bothered to inform me until I kicked up hell and refused to leave her the day Joseph parted with his coin. They separated families upon admission, you see, parted husbands from wives, took children from parents. According to the official policy, infants under seven could remain with their mothers in the women’s quarter but, as in our case, they often overlooked this. Ten years, Mrs Morgan. Ten whole years my mother had been rotting in some paupers’ pit and I had no idea.’
Wrapping her arms around the sobbing woman, Ivy rocked her. ‘Oh, love. Shhh, shhh.’
A gusty cry sounded from the next room as they drew apart.
Glancing down at her earth-coloured dress and the wet patches over each breast, Sally blushed. ‘I think he’s hungry.’
Ivy smiled, but her mind spun from the shocking revelations. ‘See to him, lass,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll brew us some sweet tea.’
Later that day, the baby was asleep in his drawer. Sally had placed it beside the fire while she helped Ivy prepare the evening meal and as they worked, they discussed the upcoming departure.
‘We shall be away Monday at first light. The sooner I put some distance between us and Joseph, the safer we’ll be.’ Glancing at her son, she felt the strongest urge to pluck him from his bed, hold his little body close and never let go.
Never will that monster get his hands on you. I’ll kill him first. I’ll protect you with my life, my darling, I promise. As she made the silent vow, he smiled in his sleep, as though sensing her devotion, and overwhelming love coursed through her. Blinking back tears, she returned her attention to the bread dough.
‘That ham shank’s smelling good.’ Ivy sniffed appreciatively at the mouth-watering aroma pervading the stuffy kitchen. Reaching for a black-bottomed pan hanging by the fire, she sighed as she too glanced at the child. ‘Eeh, I’ll miss you and the babby, aye. But I support your decision.’ She threw in potatoes, added hot water and a little salt then placed the pot by a pan of cabbage to cook. ‘Set that dough to baking, lass, and we’ll have a sup afore the men get home. Unless you’d rather lie down?’
‘No,’ Sally answered determinedly. ‘It’s time I pushed through this lethargy.’
‘Summat’s nagging me,’ said Ivy as they drank their tea. ‘What if your mam’s sister don’t dwell there any more?’
Sighing, she placed her off-white mug on the clothless table.
Ivy had returned the attractive tea service and snow-white cloth to the dresser upon the preacher’s departure. She’d revealed they were wedding gifts and her pride and joy, used only on high days and holidays or when a visitor called. Whether she liked the caller or not, she’d have never poured them tea from a pockmarked teapot into chipped, handleless mugs!
‘I don’t mean to put a damper on things but if your aunt’s upped and moved, you and the babby will be stranded. And by God, that’s one place you’d not want to be alone. I’ve heard it ain’t half grim. There’s folk up there what would sell their own granny forra shill—’ Ivy slapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Bleedin’ hell, sorry, lass. Eeh, I could chew this tongue off at times. I’m a brainless, daft owd—’
Sally laughed softly. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Morgan. And I share your concerns, but I have no one else to turn to. There’s also the risk of passing Deansgate … But I must try.’ Her mouth curved with fondness. ‘She’s a kind soul, Aunt Grace, from what I remember; happy, always smiling. She wouldn’t recognise me, now. And whether I’ll be welcome is another worry.’ She forced a reassuring smile when Ivy frowned. ‘I’m sure it will be fine. It’s just that she and my mother quarrelled shortly after my father died and never spoke again.’
Ivy’s frown deepened. ‘The falling out must’ve been a bad ’un if your mam chose to knock on t’ workhouse door over her own sister’s.’
‘I agree, but this is my only option. Besides, there is an advantage: Joseph doesn’t know she exists.’
The bubbling vegetables and crackling fire were the only sounds as the woman fell silent, immersed, Sally was certain, in the same thoughts. Had Grace moved? And if not, would she be prepared to help her desperate niece?