LILY RUBBED AN arm across her face and turned reluctantly for home. She normally hung around the market all day; there was more chance of filling her belly there. Distracted stallholders didn’t usually miss a swiped piece of fruit or bun but if they did, and her forced tears didn’t work, her thin legs could outrun any of them. Today, though, she wasn’t in the mood.
She hugged herself as the final day of October’s harsh wind whipped her mottled skin but didn’t quicken her pace. The longer she could avoid home, the better. The odd stone bit into her as she dragged her feet but as she’d never worn shoes, the skin was so coarse she barely noticed.
She paused at the entrance of Chapel Alley, debating whether to return to the market, but decided against it after glancing at the sky. She didn’t like the rain. Due to the lice she couldn’t recall not having, her head itched ferociously when wet and open sores on her scalp burned when she scratched.
Despite her foreboding as she neared her door, a smile stirred. She’d wolfed down the bread and dripping and was wonderfully full for once. That grub had been the best she’d ever tasted. She wished the lady had taken her with her. She’d been kind, had smiled and spoken to her softly. Not like her mam, who screeched at her and slapped her face for nothing.
She glanced around then unclenched her fist and grinned. A whole shilling! She smoothed a thumb over a young Victoria, feeling even richer than the pretty monarch. Saliva filled her mouth with thoughts of the food she could buy with the precious piece. Sighing happily, she slipped inside.
The stench of stale cooking and unwashed bodies enveloped her. Her mother was by the fire and after shooting a glance at her stiff back, Lily hurried to the corner. Damp from the rotten pallet seeped through her dress and she winced when straw poking through the thin fabric scratched her leg. Pressing against the wall, she wrapped her arms around her knees.
‘And where have you been?’
Lily hugged her knees tighter. ‘Market.’
Her mother stabbed the fire savagely with the poker. ‘Well, don’t get too comfy. That useless father of yourn won’t have found work, you can bet your life on that, so you best get your arse back down that market later and see what you can scavenge. Bone idle, that’s his trouble, the good-for-nowt wastrel.’
Lily’s nails bit into her palms as the scathing voice rattled on. She didn’t like it when she spoke of Father that way. He wasn’t idle or useless, he was nice and kind. Nicer than her, anyroad. She hated being alone with her. Thankfully, her siblings would soon be home from work. Her father would follow, tired and miserable after another day tramping the streets in vain.
Her brow creased at the thought of her twin brothers. It was anyone’s guess when they would be home; they were hardly ever in. At six years old, they were not yet in work but their pockets always held pennies or food. She didn’t know where they found their spoils but did know their mother wasn’t aware of it. She smiled inwardly. They were clever and she must be, too, if she was to hold on to her shilling.
She squeezed her hand, imagining the endless possibilities it afforded. She could buy a whole bag of fruit, apples, aye, or juicy plums, and stuff her face with the sticky treats; maybe a few cakes, too. Or later, she could sneak to the alehouse for a potato pie. She could buy two, even three––
‘What the bugger have you to grin about?’ her mother snapped, dragging her from her daydream. ‘I’m sure you’re a bit simple, you. ’Ere, make yourself useful forra change.’
Lily crossed the room and took the steaming mug held out to her.
‘Take that in to your Uncle Joseph, and mind you don’t spill it. It’s about time he were from that pit of his. Go on, then, hurry up.’
Sticking out her tongue in concentration, Lily headed for the door. Watching the pale-brown liquid swishing back and forth with every step, she remembered the uneven flagstone too late. Her toe stubbed the jutting corner and she stared in horror as the mug and shilling flew from her hands.
The mug landed with a smash but she didn’t react when hot tea splashed her bare legs. All her attention was on the coin. She watched, transfixed, as it spun in a circle then rattled to a stop.
‘You silly bitch, yer! I told thee to be careful, you gormless young—’ The outburst died at the sight of the shilling.
Lily whimpered but a slap silenced her.
Her mother snatched up the coin and waved it under her nose. ‘You snidy, sly little bitch. Where the bugger did you get this?’ She shook her shoulder hard. ‘Shurrup bawling and answer me. Where did you get it?’
‘A l–l–lady gave it m–me.’ Lily’s stuttered explanation earned her another slap.
‘What lady, you bleedin’ liar?’
‘I’m not l–lying, honest!’
‘What the hell’s afoot, here?’
They turned to see Joseph standing in the doorway.
Running a hand through his hair, he scratched his bare chest and yawned. ‘What’s all the caterwauling? You can’t get a wink of kip in this dump.’
Her mother shot Lily a contemptuous look. ‘We’ve been sat here without a scrap of grub in t’ house and this little bitch had a shilling and didn’t say nowt. Said a lady give it her, lying cow.’
Joseph stepped over the shattered mug and lowered himself into the fireside chair. ‘All that wailing for that? Bloody hell.’
‘Listen ’ere, we can’t live on fresh air, you know, and I don’t see you handing over no brass. This lying swine should’ve give me this straight away but nay, were planning spending it on herself, no doubt. Selfish through and through, she is, just like her rotten father.’
Bunching her fists, Lily glared at her. ‘I’m norra liar! A lady did give it me. She were from Manchester. I helped her buy a basket to carry her babby in, for the stallholder were trying to swindle her. She were going on a train and she said I were clever. Reet nice to me, she were.’
Her mother laughed scathingly. ‘Clever? Thee? Huh!’
Joseph’s dark eyes narrowed. He silenced his sister with a flap of his hand. ‘Did she tell you her name?’
Lily shook her head. ‘I never asked.’
‘Take no notice, you fool, she’s lying. I bet she’s robbed it from somewhere, the little—’
‘Alice, will you shurrup a minute, for God’s sake?’ Before his sister could respond, he turned back to Lily. ‘What did she look like, this lady?’
Lily cocked her head in thought. ‘She wore a brown dress and her hair were brown, an’ all. And she spoke queer.’ She reached up to touch her temple. ‘Had a scar like a half-moon, she did, just here.’
He paled. ‘And she had a babby with her?’
‘Aye. Tiny, it were.’
With a roar, he leapt up and rushed from the room. He returned fully dressed, face now purple with rage. ‘I’ll kill her. I’ll bloody well kill her!’
‘You don’t reckon it were Sally?’ asked her mother.
‘Course it bloody were, the scheming whore. I knew she’d been thieving off me; where else would she of got brass to throw about? Catching a bloody train, were she? Well, she’ll not get far. By God, she’ll not!’ He snatched the shilling and bolted from the cottage.
Staring at the open door, Lily’s mind whirled. She’d heard them talk about someone called Sally before but from what they had said, she sounded horrible. The lady at the market wasn’t; she was lovely. It couldn’t be her!
Eyes swimming with tears, she sloped to the corner and curled into a ball upon the mattress.
Jostled at every step, Sally, hugging the basket close, made her way across the crowded platform. Smartly dressed gentlemen, and ladies in beautiful dresses and hats, breezed towards the first-class carriage of the waiting train, porters scurrying behind with trunks and boxes. At other compartments, beshawled women, children, and men in rough clothing and caps dominated the entrances.
She looked around uncertainly. The bustling market had been noisy but the atmosphere jovial, relaxed. This was something else. Footsteps pounded the platform. Children’s cries and laughter mingled with the hum of conversation. Porters’ shouts rang, unintelligible amidst the throb of noise. Yet it was the train that was turning her legs to jelly.
Upon leaving the workhouse, she and Joseph had travelled to Bolton on an open cart. Never had she been on one of these huge, hissing beasts; the prospect filled her with panic.
She continued hesitantly when passengers in front began entering the carriages. However, as she reached the entrance, her resolve wavered and she turned, ready to bolt from the station. But she knew she had no choice – she must get on. Inwardly cursing Joseph to the bowels of hell, she turned back.
The dog had already leapt aboard and stood, head cocked, as though urging her on. With a deep breath, she stepped forward. She’d barely entered when a hand gripped her shoulder and hauled her back on to the platform.
‘What d’you think you’re playing at?’
Her legs almost buckled. Twisting around, she found herself facing a broad chest. Slowly, her eyes travelled up, not wanting to see the face she knew it was. She’d almost done it. By sheer misfortune, Joseph had found her. Dear God, he’d kill her for sure, he’d—
‘I asked thee a question. What d’you think you’re playing at?’
She tried yanking free but he held on tight. ‘Let me go! I won’t go back with you, I won’t! I’ll scream this station to the ground if you don’t let me go!’ Her last words were indeed a scream and she shoved him hard in the stomach.
His grip loosened and, gasping, she made to jump aboard but the dog knocked her aside and leapt from the carriage. It landed on the man and passengers stared open-mouthed as he hit the platform.
The animal planted its huge paws on his chest and pressed its face close to his, snarling menacingly. She suspected it was only her cry of horror on realising he wasn’t Joseph after all that stopped it sinking its teeth into the man’s neck. It looked up, awaiting her instruction.
‘What the …? What the …?’ The stationmaster craned his neck slowly so as not to provoke the dog further. ‘What’s its name? Call it off, God damn it, call it off!’
‘He hasn’t got a name. I haven’t given him one, yet.’
‘Well, think of one and quick. It’s crushing my bleedin’ ribs, here!’
The dog watched her calmly as she approached. She laid a hand on its head. ‘Off, Dog. It’s all right, I’m all right. Off.’
The stationmaster gasped in relief when it obeyed. He staggered to his feet, eyes blazing, and pointed a quivering finger in her face. ‘You … you swine, yer. I’ll have you and that thing strung up! I only asked what you were playing at fetching that fiend on t’ train. Animals ain’t permitted in here.’
Sally lowered her eyes in mortification. ‘I’m sorry, I am, really. You startled me. I thought you were someone else.’
‘Sorry, is it? Tha bloody will be when—’ A man stepped from the crowd, silencing him.
‘You’re the one who’ll be sorry if you don’t leave this lass alone. ’Tis a disgrace how you dragged her from the train; and her with a babe in arms, too. The dog acted admirably and I’ll be the one knocking ye back down, so I will, if you don’t back off.’
Sally gazed at him then touched the stationmaster’s sleeve. ‘Let the dog on the train. I’ve said sorry and I’ll pay extra. Please?’ He glared from her to the stranger uncertainly and she turned to the young Irishman who had defended her. ‘Please, I’m quite all right. You’re making matters worse.’
His green eyes danced in amusement and a slow smile spread across his handsome face. ‘As you wish, acushla, as you wish.’
A shrill whistle rang out and she turned back to the stationmaster, face creasing in desperation. ‘Please. I must catch this train.’ She fumbled in the basket, drew out a handful of coins and held them up.
Catching the eye of the Irishman, who nodded, he flapped a hand. ‘Oh, give me your fare. I’ve had a bloody bellyful. Go on, get gone.’
Sally almost cried out in relief. She handed over the money and she and the dog hurried aboard. Taking a seat on the wooden form, she heaved a sigh.
‘I suppose the carter was right, Dog. You did well protecting me, there!’
It lay at her feet and rested its head on its paws. Patting the dog, she peered across the platform. She caught sight of the stationmaster and pulled back quickly, covering her mouth as laughter bubbled. Peeping back, she scanned the faces and frowned. The Irishman had gone.
She sat back and shrugged. It was no concern of hers. Besides, he’d had no right interfering. Nevertheless, as the train pulled away, she again glanced out but great clouds of steam obscured her view.
Sally shrugged once more, placed the basket next to her and closed her eyes. Her stomach fluttered with a range of emotions. She could scarcely believe she was leaving Bolton after all these years. And what would she face in Manchester? Her heart lurched, already aching for Ivy and her safe little cottage.
A tall, muscular man with floppy, coal-black hair and grey-blue eyes assaulted her mind’s eye. Allowing herself to study him, she recalled the time they spent together in his cosy kitchen. She remembered how his shoulder muscles rippled through his shirt when he scraped back his hair, heard his smooth, deep laugh … She hugged herself, a smile caressing her lips.
As the train rattled along the tracks to her birthplace, she slipped into a light sleep.
The train was spluttering to a halt when a growl woke Sally. She was startled to see the dog staring beyond her shoulder and turned slowly.
‘Lily?’ As soon as she uttered the name, she knew she was mistaken. The child, though plainly dressed, was neat and clean and whilst her hair was the exact colour of the other girl’s, it wasn’t falling across her face in greasy tendrils but lay in tidy plaits.
‘Begging your pardon, lass, but I heard you telling the stationmaster you were Manchester bound.’
She hadn’t noticed a man standing behind the girl and jumped in surprise.
‘You were out for the count and I didn’t know whether to waken thee in case that big beggar took a chunk from me.’ Flashing a wary glance at the dog, he laid a protective hand on the child’s shoulder.
She smiled sheepishly. ‘Are we in Manchester?’
‘We are, lass.’ He touched his cap then hastily guided the girl from the carriage.
Sally looked down and sighed. ‘You’re going to get me into trouble. I don’t need shielding from everyone.’ She nodded thoughtfully. ‘That is an ideal name; I cannot continue calling you Dog. How about it? Shall we name you Shield?’ He woofed softly and she smiled. ‘Shield it is, then.’
She lifted the basket but looking inside her smile slipped. Jonathan was wide awake and sucking his bunched fist. ‘Come, Shield, this fellow needs feeding.’
The long, single-storey building of Manchester Victoria Station milled with people. She made for an empty bench, lifted the grizzling child and after positioning her shawl around them, opened a few buttons on her dress.
Shield sat by her feet, scrutinising all who passed. Women glanced in their direction, smiled understandingly and looked away. But the lingering stares of some men had his hackles rising and she softened towards him further.
He clearly held a deep distrust of men; they had an affinity in that sense. Then the memory of him jumping up excitedly at Tommy swam across her mind and she smiled. Well, not all men. That was another connection they shared – they recognised a good one when they saw one.
The suckling ceased and after repositioning her clothing, she laid the baby in the basket and rose.
She’d done it. She’d escaped and Joseph was none the wiser. God willing, she’d soon be seeing her aunt. Her heart beat furiously with terror and excitement.
She took deep breaths. Then squaring her shoulders, she walked from the station.