‘WILL YOUSE TWO leave that dog be and sit down? Mithered to death, he is, poor blighter.’
Sally heard Maggie’s twins, Flo and Harry, cross the room, bare feet slapping the floorboards. It was the knocking of wood on wood, as they rocked on rickety chairs, which fully roused her.
Those initial seconds were blissfully memory-free. Too soon, recollection slammed home, bringing pain so acute that nausea rose. She’d have given anything to fall back to sleep, forget. She didn’t want to feel, think, imagine … How, in the name of God, would she get through this?
‘Granny, we’ve ate our porridge. Can we play with Shield, now?’
Ellen, her back to them at the fire, flapped a hand and they scooted across the kitchen. Gradually, their giggles grew and, despite her misery, Sally couldn’t help smiling when their grandmother addressed them.
‘Right, get your clogs on and take your games outside. You’re giving me a thundering headache. Go on, afore I tan your backsides.’
Though they scrambled up, it was evident they had never felt her hand – they hooted with laughter. ‘Can we take Shield?’
‘Aye, go on. Just mind for carts and don’t be bothering folk.’
As they skipped out, Shield bounding between, Sally closed her eyes. But memories trickled back and she knew she must get up. If sleep wouldn’t release her, she’d have to hold them at bay by keeping busy. Allowing them free rein would send her stark, staring mad. For the first time, thoughts of work brought blessed relief.
‘Morning, lass. Our Maggie’s out; she’ll not be long. There’s a pot on t’ table not long since brewed.’
Spying awkwardness in Ellen’s eyes, she sighed inwardly. Who could blame her? ‘Thank you for last night. I’m sorry for burdening you and Maggie. I didn’t know where else to go.’
Relief passed over Ellen’s face. She wiped her hands on her apron and sat opposite. ‘Now, that’s enough of that. You’ve been kindness itself to my Maggie; one good turn deserves another. Mind, I’m glad you mentioned it first, lass. I can’t imagine how you’re fettling this morning.’
‘I understand. I just … Lord, what am I to do?’
‘You’ll have to talk it through with her sooner or later. Otherwise, it’ll fester inside and drive thee ruddy mad. When all’s said and done, she’s still your aunt.’
Sally nodded. How she’d look Grace in the face again, however …
‘You’d best waken the babby, give him his feed. And don’t you be fretting. He’ll have a lovely time.’
‘I feel dreadful doing this to you. You have your hands full already—’
‘And love every minute. I don’t know what I’d do with meself all day if not for our Maggie’s two.’
Sally smiled tearfully – she was fortunate to have such wonderful friends. What she’d have done last night without them, she didn’t know.
‘Go on, lass. Give him his breakfast and get yourself to work. Best thing you can do is keep busy.’
Lifting him from the basket, her stomach flipped. Jonathan. She couldn’t bear that, now. She’d bestowed the name proudly, believing … lies. Everything she held dear, memories she cherished – all lies. Her mind had built up her father into some virtuous saint. For years, she’d mourned a man who didn’t exist.
She watched the baby suckle, her thoughts in disarray. What heartbreak her father and aunt had made her poor mother suffer. They betrayed her in the worst possible way. It had affected her whole life, too. But for their actions, how might life have been? Would she have married a decent man instead of a monster? Would her mother be alive? The lost possibilities were difficult to dismiss.
Thoughts of Stan, however, quashed her growing resentment. The utterance of a few words had lost him not only the father he believed to be his, but respect and trust for his mother, and a sister he’d thought was his full sibling. Moreover, the cousin he’d longed to reunite with was now his half-sister. Her pain paled in comparison.
Sally squeezed her eyes shut at the memory of his devastation. Everyone he’d ever loved had concealed what he’d a right to know. Would he forgive her? Gaining a sibling was an almighty shock to her, yet was growing on her. Whether he’d warm to it, she didn’t know.
Holding her now-fed son against her shoulder, she rubbed his back. She tried to focus on the twins’ voices beyond the door, desperate for her thoughts not to switch to Grace, but it was useless. Despite the agony of betrayal, she ached for the woman she’d come to love as a mother, yearned for her comforting hug, her soft voice. Attempting to deny the hurt Grace undoubtedly felt was impossible.
Last night, she’d simply snatched up the basket and fled. Her friends insisted she must stay as long as she needed but she couldn’t impose on them for long. Ellen was right. However painful, she must give Grace the chance to explain.
Sighing, she rose from the pallet. She couldn’t be late today. Pru had already allowed her time off; it would seem she was taking advantage of her kind nature. Donning her shawl, she thanked Ellen and left.
The twins, sitting cross-legged on the flagstones stroking Shield, waved as she passed. She returned the waves, shook her head when the dog made to rise, and hurried on. Turning the corner, she collided with her friend.
‘Mind where you’re going, you clumsy— Oh, it’s thee.’ Maggie laughed then her eyes softened. ‘I’m glad I caught you afore you left. How you fettling?’
‘I’m unsure. Hurt, confused … It’s such a mess.’
‘Eeh, love. ’Ere, let me take these in to Mam and I’ll walk with you.’ Maggie motioned to the pot of dripping and bundle of kindling she held. ‘She’ll be wondering where I’ve got to; it took an age persuading him in t’ shop for a bit more on the slate. It’s a good thing you’ve done, finding me that position, lass. We’d be facing destitution but for it. Eeh, listen to me prattling on; I’ll finish up making you late. I’ll not be a moment.’ Flashing a grin, she scurried off.
Sally smiled fondly. Maggie was a good woman. She was so glad Pru had agreed to her working in the shop; Saturday would be here soon enough.
That she’d helped this family yet was at a loss how to repair her own didn’t go unnoticed, but she pushed it from her mind. To get through the day without breaking down, she couldn’t dwell on it.
Maggie rejoined her. Sally linked her arm through hers and they set off. Arriving at the pawnshop, her friend peeped through the window.
‘Eeh, a few more days – I can’t wait! It’ll be great after all the years in t’ mills.’
Maggie’s excitement warmed Sally’s heart. ‘Why don’t I introduce you to Miss Sharp while you’re here?’
‘Won’t she mind?’
‘Of course not. She’s lovely, Maggie.’
Pru glanced around at the tinkling bell but before Sally could beckon Maggie – and to her utter dismay – Pru lowered her head without so much as a smile. Heart sinking, she joined her friend outside.
‘Actually, Maggie, Miss Sharp’s rather busy. Introducing yourself on Saturday would be wiser.’
Unaware anything was other than it seemed, Maggie nodded. ‘I don’t want to set a bad impression by disturbing her work. Go on, you’d best get in. I’ll see thee at dinnertime, lass.’
Guilt gnawing at her, Sally bid her goodbye. If her suspicions proved correct, should she have let Maggie see?
Knowing her friend would be curious about Pru’s injuries, she’d casually remarked days earlier that Pru had taken a tumble on a patch of ice. She’d hated lying but didn’t feel it was her place to reveal the Sharps’ business. As did most, Maggie knew about Agnes’s previous employee but wasn’t concerned. As she pointed out, she’d be working in the shop, not upstairs.
Nevertheless, concealing goings-on beneath this roof much longer was hopeless; the evidence would be right under her nose. Whether customers believed Pru’s excuses, she didn’t know, but Maggie deserved the truth.
As she re-entered the shop, unease twisted her stomach when Pru didn’t look up. She crossed to the counter and squeezed her shoulder gently. ‘She’s done it again, hasn’t she? Miss Sharp, let me see.’
Bruising from the previous attack had faded. But this split lip was clearly a more recent assault.
‘Why does she do it?’
‘It looks worse than it is. Would you like a cup of tea, dear?’
Sally heaved a sigh of frustration, pity, helplessness. ‘You cannot continue like this. You cannot keep excusing her wretched behaviour and brushing this aside as if it doesn’t matter. When will you realise that it isn’t normal, Miss Sharp? You don’t deserve to be treated this way, by anyone.’
The dull response was barely audible. ‘What choice have I? I’m all she has. It’s my duty.’
‘Why has she done this again? You said last time—’
‘And meant it. I was determined not to give her the reaction she so enjoys. I failed. She can be extremely hurtful, knows just what to say to … maintain my suffering. She goes on and on and I sometimes feel like …’ Pru paused, cleared her throat. ‘But she insists it’s for my own good so I won’t make the same mistake again.’
Sally resisted asking what mistake, why she must suffer, what in heaven was going on. When Pru deemed the time right, she’d be here. ‘I don’t know what to say that I haven’t already said. It’s your life, your mother, your business. Just please …’ She sighed, wanting to say so much but knowing it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference. ‘Please. Be careful.’
Pru nodded then smiled brightly. ‘Now, then. Let me get you that tea and you can tell me all about your trip to Bolton, before Mother wakes. I trust your friend is well?’
Sudden tears thickened her throat. ‘As it turned out, I was unable to make the visit. My cousin passed away yesterday morning.’
‘My dear! Oh, I’m so very sorry for your loss. Your poor aunt.’
‘She is inconsolable. Peggy was just eleven years old.’ Glancing up, she was taken aback. Tears streamed down Pru’s cheeks. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—’
‘No, no, you have no reason to apologise,’ Pru choked, wiping eyes raw with anguish. ‘Please, do not be alarmed. I simply adore children. To hear of one’s passing … It is the worst possible pain a mother could go through.’
A frown touched Sally’s brow. ‘Yes, I’m sure it must be.’
Hand fluttering to her throat, Pru’s tortured stare intensified. ‘Sally, I—’ A thud from above cut her off.
She nodded encouragingly. ‘Yes, Miss Sharp?’
‘I … I …’
She held her breath but to her dismay Pru’s shoulders sagged. It was clear by her next words that the moment had passed.
‘I believe Mother wants her tea. You won’t mention … will you, dear?’
Taking a last look at the swollen mouth, Sally shook her head. Concealing truths was all her life consisted of lately and she was heartily fed up with it.
Making her way upstairs, her footsteps followed the beat of the mocking mantra tormenting her mind: Secrets and lies. Secrets and lies. Secrets and lies …
As before, Agnes showed no sign in word or action of occurrences in Sally’s absence. Neither did she mention Tuesday’s disturbing mood and talk of unwanted babies. Her unpredictability was unnerving. How Pru bore her, Sally didn’t know.
The day rolled along as usual and after bidding Pru goodbye, she left with a thankful sigh. Work had taken her mind off her family, but worry for Pru’s had replaced it.
Weary workers trudged in all directions but she barely noticed. Her thoughts were on the old woman’s deplorable ability to act as if nothing had happened. Agnes must know she’d seen Pru’s injuries, and was possibly aware how they got there, yet didn’t seem concerned in the slightest.
Whatever her past, poor Pru didn’t deserve this treatment. She herself knew better than most how it was to live awaiting the next blow. Imprisoned by such poison, day in, day out, was unbearable. How long before Pru’s patience burned out, as had hers? What the outcome when it did?
Deep in thought, it wasn’t until reaching the entry that Sally realised her error. Her heart sank to her boots. She’d made for Grace’s instead of Maggie’s.
Turning for Davies Street, her tear-scorched eyes flicked to her aunt’s. They fixed on a figure and she jolted to a halt. Pressing against the wall, she peered at him. Her brother.
He stood stock-still, cap low over his face. When he raised his head to look at the door, the pain in his eyes brought fresh tears to hers. He continued staring but instead of entering, thrust his hands into his pockets and rested his chin on his chest.
At the sorry sight of him, lost and alone in the darkening street, Sally’s arms ached for him. She pushed herself from the wall but didn’t go. Despite her breaking heart, her feet refused to budge and, moments later, Stan slipped inside.
She gazed at the door for an age. Then with a sob, she turned on her heel for Maggie’s.