‘I DON’T MIND setting off early with thee. Mam will see to the children.’
Draping her shawl around her shoulders, Sally shook her head quickly. ‘No, no. It’s fine, Maggie.’
‘If you’re sure? Aye, as you say, a brisk walk will do the trick. I’ll see you later.’
Wincing at her sympathetic smile, Sally mumbled goodbye and left. She loathed doing that. The deceit itself, that she needed to walk off a headache before work, was bad enough; Maggie’s concern only added to her guilt.
She quickened her step. Pru at Agnes’s window had stayed with her throughout the night. She just hoped there hadn’t been further conflict over the weekend.
Sudden thoughts of her own family brought now-familiar pain and she forced her mind elsewhere. The issue with Stan was out of her hands. Her only option was to pray that one day, he’d forgive her.
Despite her inner turmoil, she couldn’t help smiling as, repositioning her shawl, she glimpsed the garment beneath.
On returning to Maggie’s yesterday, her friend told her Con had just left. He’d called to see how Sally was bearing up after the funeral, but her heart-to-heart with Grace detained her longer than the time he could spare and she’d been saddened to have missed him by minutes. After the day she’d had, she’d have welcomed his company.
However, her dismay turned to curiosity at Maggie’s soft eyes and pink cheeks – and the dove-grey blouse she held. Ellen had pointed to the twins, proudly sporting new cap and bonnet, and held up a cream-coloured blouse of her own in delight. She’d then motioned to a bundle on the table. They were gifts from Con from his market stall.
Though second-hand, everything was in sound condition and, holding the dark-blue blouse with black trim against herself, Sally had marvelled with the rest at the Irishman’s generosity.
Like Maggie and her family, she’d never owned such a beautiful garment. The unfamiliar material felt strange against her skin but was a good fit, accentuating her curves to perfection.
Turning into Bradford Road, her smile deepened. He was calling again this evening. She couldn’t wait to see him, to thank him. She was so fortunate to have him for a friend.
The pawnshop came into view and her smile melted as she saw a crowd huddled by the door. What on earth …?
‘It’s locked, lass,’ a perplexed customer announced. ‘Been banging for ten minutes, I have. Summat’s afoot. I’ve never known Miss Sharp be late opening.’
Sally glanced at each of them in turn. They held bundles containing Sunday-best clothes, which were pawned at the beginning of the week and redeemed on Saturday, for church the following day. It was the same week in, week out. The customer was right. For the shop to be closed at this hour, today of all days, something was indeed wrong.
Stepping into the road, she squinted at the upstairs windows. There was no sign of life this time. Curtains were drawn at each, including Agnes’s. A customer banged on the door but still there was no movement beyond the panes.
‘You work here, don’t you? When did you last see the daughter?’
‘I saw Miss Sharp at the window, there, yesterday afternoon.’ As her answer hung in the air, dread crept through Sally, increasing when the customers’ expressions showed they shared her concern.
At the back of the crowd, a stout woman turned to a girl beside her. ‘Gertie, go and fetch the butcher, lass. This door needs kicking in. Wilf’s a big beggar; he’ll get it open.’
As the customers whispered amongst themselves, Sally watched the girl’s spindly legs fly across the cobbles. Please, Lord, let all be well, she prayed. Yet deep down, she knew it wasn’t. Her heartbeat quickened when Gertie emerged with Wilf. Crossing her fingers, she continued praying.
The butcher, bloodstained apron flapping in the breeze, nodded grimly at the woman’s explanation. He stepped back, rolled his head side to side then ran and slammed his shoulder against the door. On the third attempt, there was the crack of splintering wood and after a final shove, it crashed open. Nodding to the subdued crowd, he motioned for them to remain outside.
Before he disappeared, Sally tugged his sleeve. ‘Wait, I’m coming with you. I work here.’
He hesitated but at her determined look, nodded. ‘All right, lass, but I’ll lead. We could be walking into owt, here.’
A glance revealed the shop was empty. They hurried for the door behind the counter and mounted the stairs, calling Pru’s name as they went, but silence greeted them.
On the landing, Wilf motioned to the closed doors. ‘Which is the owd ’un’s?’
Heart galloping, she pointed.
He pressed his ear to it then opened it slowly. ‘Mother of God …’ Staggering back, he hauled her away. ‘Don’t look, lass. Dear Lord, don’t look upon that room!’
Sally heard herself scream. She pushed past and stumbled inside.
Agnes lay twisted at an odd angle in the blood-soaked bed. Emerald eyes, holding surprise, stared unseeing at the ceiling. Crimson splatters streaked her snow-white hair and beside her battered head lay her bloodied poker.
A noise like rushing water swam in Sally’s ears. The room swayed and she gripped the door frame. Making to turn from the gruesome scene, she froze.
‘Come away, there’s nowt you can …’ Wilf’s words petered out as he followed her gaze to the window.
‘I think it’s Miss Sharp,’ she whispered.
His voice was hesitant. ‘Miss Sharp? Is that you?’
The kneeling figure lifted its head. A shaft of light from the slit in the curtains fell across the bruised face and, with a cry, Sally rushed forward. But the large knife in the woman’s hand stopped her in her tracks.
Rocking slowly, a ghost of a smile touched Pru’s mouth.
‘Miss Sharp, it’s me. Please … put the knife down.’
Pru stilled. A gentle frown accompanied her smile. ‘Hello, dear.’
A sob caught in Sally’s throat and she dropped to her knees. ‘Oh, Miss Sharp, what—?’
‘You must keep your voice down, dear.’ Pru held a blood-smeared finger to her lips. ‘Mother will be furious if we wake her.’
Wilf crouched beside Sally. ‘Miss Sharp, let me have that knife, lass.’
He reached out and Sally held her breath.
Pru blinked. She gazed at the butcher, then at the knife. Then she began to laugh.
Time seemed to stand still and Sally could only watch as her friend raised her arm. Before Wilf could make a grab for it, Pru smiled softly and plunged the blade into her chest.
‘Drink this. I’ve put in plenty of sugar for your nerves. Eeh, you poor girl. What an awful thing to witness. I can’t believe it, I can’t.’
‘I don’t understand. Miss Sharp … such a sweet, gentle soul …’ Fresh tears burst from Sally. ‘Her eyes … They were empty. Simply empty.’
Ellen sighed. ‘She must’ve been in a dark place to do what she did but, harsh as it sounds, she’s probably better off where she is now. She’s at peace, lass, and she’s free of her mother and all what went with it.’
‘She was so thoughtful, so kind. Not once did she judge or question me regarding my marital affairs, though she must have thought it odd I never mentioned my husband. How has this happened? Perhaps I, I could have …’
Maggie knelt beside her. ‘Sally, listen to me. Don’t blame yourself for any of this. That troubled woman took her mam’s life and her own. Her hands, not yours, brought about the deeds. There were nowt you could’ve done.’
‘Drink your tea,’ Ellen instructed softly. ‘That constable said he’d need nowt more from you, didn’t he, so when you’ve drunk that, you go and have a lie down. Rest is the best thing for shock.’
Minutes later, Maggie tucked Sally into her own bed. ‘You’ll not be disturbed. Try and get some sleep.’
‘Please, stay with me awhile. Every time I close my eyes …’
‘Eeh, course I will.’ Her friend perched on the bed and shook her head. ‘I should’ve come with thee this morning.’
‘There’s nothing you could have done. There’s nothing anyone could have done.’
Maggie’s eyes flashed with hurt. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Sally? I’d not have told no one. Honest, I wouldn’t.’
Fear rolled through her stomach. She’d dreaded this. It was Stan all over again. Would lies and secrecy lose her her friend, too?
When she’d arrived home, leaning on the butcher for support, and revealed what had happened, their horrified cries rang through the house. They grew when she’d confessed all regarding the Sharps’ relationship.
Though relieved to unburden herself of the terrible secret, she’d known their shock would dampen and she’d have some uncomfortable questions to answer. Now, trepidation overcame her. She sent up a silent prayer before attempting to explain.
‘Maggie, I don’t know where to begin. I strongly believed you deserved to know what went on behind those walls. Lying to you, making excuses … it’s eaten away at me. I, I just—’
‘I understand. Miss Sharp told you in confidence. It’s fair wrong of me to say you should’ve told me. I’m just sorry I weren’t there for thee, to give an ear to your worries. You must’ve felt wretched knowing what you did and having no one to talk to.’
Amazement slackened her mouth. ‘You mean you’re not angry with me? You understand my predicament? Oh, Maggie.’ She threw her arms around her friend’s neck. ‘Thank you. Oh, thank you. I’ve been sick with worry at the thought of telling you. I thought you’d be furious, that you’d hate me, that you’d—’
‘Eeh, course not,’ Maggie soothed, rubbing her back as she would the twins’. ‘I understand, lass, I do. I don’t know what that there premicadent word were but think I can guess its meaning.’
Sally laughed through her tears. ‘I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again, like Stan. I’ll never keep anything from you again. You have my word.’
Distraction tinged Maggie’s smile.
‘What’s wrong?’
Maggie tapped her lips, eyes thoughtful. ‘I’ve just remembered summat Miss Sharp said Saturday. I never thought nowt of it at the time … I were talking of the twins, how they can be imps at times, as children are. Well, she gorra bit teary. She said how she loved children, that if I ever needed a break, she’d gladly take them off my hands forra few hours. I thought it reet kind and told her so, but explained Mam helps out.’
‘That was simply Miss Sharp’s way. She mentioned after Peggy’s passing how much she adored children.’
‘Nay, that weren’t all. She said how fortunate I were, that I had everything a woman could wish in life. She said to be a loving mother and have a loving mother were the greatest gifts a body could possess. I thought nowt of it, but … Eeh, lass, d’you think she were trying to tell me summat?’
Sally sighed. ‘Almost every conversation we had, I felt she wanted to confide in me. But whenever I believed she was on the brink of doing so, she’d clam up. Their relationship was woven with long-held secrets and resentment. The atmosphere when they were together … well, it wasn’t pleasant, put it that way.
‘Miss Sharp admitted she couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her. It’s hardly surprising; I saw with my own eyes how her mother treated her. The feeling was clearly mutual. Mrs Sharp revealed she prayed for Miss Sharp’s death after her birth.’
‘That’s wicked! How could anyone harbour such hatred for their flesh and blood?’
‘I have no idea, Maggie. She once blurted she didn’t know what some man or another saw in her daughter, but … Oh, I don’t know. Whatever happened in the past seems irrelevant considering the enmity Mrs Sharp held for her before she even left the womb. There was such hatred, such a complete lack of love between them. It’s so very sad.’
Maggie lowered her gaze. ‘I know it’s early on to mention this but, well, it needs thinking on sooner or later. We’re out of a job, now, love. We need to think on what we’re to do. Sorry as I am for what’s occurred, I’ve the little ’uns and Mam to think of; as do you with the babby.’
‘Do you know, I hadn’t thought about that but you’re right.’ Sudden yearning for Breightmet, for Ivy and her family, the fields and meadows she missed so much, struck.
‘We’ll talk later. Try and snatch a few hours’ sleep, it’ll do you good.’
After Maggie left, Sally stared at the door for an age, thoughts tumbling. Recent events had taken centre stage in her mind and she felt wretched realising she’d almost forgotten about the attack at Bolton. She curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut. Peggy’s death, discovering that Stan was her brother, the horrific incident today – all had consumed her thoughts, pushing aside the one person she owed her life to.
Shame stung and she hugged herself tighter, the urge for Spring Row rising. She didn’t want to remain here any longer. The Manchester of her childhood was in a past she could never return to. There was nothing for her, here, now. Her relationship with her family was in tatters and, as Maggie pointed out, work no longer tied her.
Reliving the day’s events yet again, tears burned. She could scarcely believe Pru and Agnes were gone. Pru’s face at the window would haunt her for ever. What transpired over the weekend to tip her over the edge? Why, why, had she continued on her way yesterday when it was clear Pru needed her? Her presence was a cry for help – but selfishly, she’d walked away.
The constable had surmised that the murder occurred many hours before discovery. Had Pru already done the deed when she’d seen her?
For the remainder of her days, she’d never forget that haunted expression of someone beyond help. Agnes had provoked her, she must have, and after years of mental and physical torture, Pru snapped. There was no denying the old woman could be wicked beyond words.
Yet whatever Agnes’s sins, she’d paid for them today and Sally hoped both were now at peace. It was just heartbreaking that it had to be in death; it clearly hadn’t existed in life, for either.
These last days were the worst of her life. How much heartache could she bear?
Convulsing with sobs, she wept bitterly.
A loud rap woke Sally with a jolt. The slit of sky between the curtains was purple-black and gasping, she hauled herself up. Why had no one woken her? Feeding Jonathan her main concern, she hurried from the bedroom.
Tears she’d shed before falling into the fitful sleep had brought on a splitting headache. Reaching the kitchen, she shaded her eyes with her hand. ‘It’s as though my head has been trampled by a dozen horses. Why didn’t you wake me?’
‘There you are!’
Her head sprang up at the familiar voice and she saw Con in the doorway. Pain stabbed and she winced then shivered as the night breeze hit her.
Maggie rushed to her. ‘Sit yourself by the fire, Sally. Con, come in and shut that door,’ she added, then frowned to see he wasn’t there. ‘Where’s he gone?’ she asked her mother.
Ellen ceased pouring tea to look outside and almost dropped the pot when he suddenly reappeared. ‘Mother of God, my heart!’
Con flashed her and Maggie a grin then winked at Sally. ‘Close your eyes, acushla. I’ve a surprise for ye.’ He returned to the street then sauntered back in, pushing a black perambulator. ‘What do you think? ’Tis fit for a prince, to be sure.’
Sally gazed at the huge contraption. ‘Is that for me?’
‘Sure, you’d have a job squeezing in! ’Tis for your man, there.’ He smiled at Jonathan. ‘You didn’t think I’d leave him out, did ye? I didn’t bring it yesterday with the other items because I hadn’t time to pick it up from my friend’s stall. I collected it this afternoon. ’Tis clean,’ he assured her. ‘Sure, ’tis a little battered but it’s solid and the wheels are sturdy. Aye, laid back in this, ’twill be grand he’ll look, better than any toff.’
She forced a smile. ‘You shouldn’t have. Thank you; for the blouse, too. You’re too kind.’
Studying her, his grin vanished. ‘What’s wrong?’
Maggie placed a protective arm around her shoulders. ‘You’ve not heard?’
‘Heard what, Maggie?’ He sighed and rubbed his chin. ‘The funeral. Jaysus, Sally, I’m sorry. Did something happen with the family? Weren’t you able to be reconciled?’
Maggie bit her lip. ‘It’s not that. This morning … I don’t know how you’ve not heard.’
‘I’ve been out of Ancoats all day at your man’s picking up this,’ he said, nodding to the perambulator, ‘then collecting stock for my stall. What should I have heard?’ In two strides, he crossed the room and knelt before them. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I tried telling you afore Sally came down. Con, summat terrible’s happened. Miss Sharp … She’s taken her mam’s life and her own. Sally found them this morning.’
He shook his head in disbelief. Sally began to cry, Maggie’s bottom lip trembled, and Con clasped them both in a hug.
Holding her friends close, deep sadness thudded through Sally’s breast but she knew she must tell them. Longing for Spring Row and the Morgans was as acute as earlier. She’d made up her mind. Her friends needed to know.
She glanced at them in turn. ‘I have to tell you something. I’ve decided to return to Bolton.’ From what little she’d revealed, they were aware of her troubled marriage so she wasn’t surprised when each of them protested, faces creased with concern. ‘Please, I must. I’m aching to see the Morgans and … Well, the stark truth is, other than you all, there’s nothing for me in Manchester. I barely have a relationship with my family, no position, very little money and no home.’
‘You’re welcome to stop here as long as you want, in’t she, Mam?’ Maggie cried. ‘You see,’ she added when Ellen nodded, ‘you’re a good friend, lass – the best. I don’t want to lose thee.’
‘Nor shall you,’ she said with feeling. ‘I don’t know what will happen when I arrive or how long I’ll be able to stay. And if I’m honest, at this moment, I don’t know whether I’ll return here afterwards. But I have to go. I have to, Maggie. I’ve left it far longer than I should. I must see Mrs Morgan is well. Whatever happens, wherever I am, I promise we’ll always be friends.’ Maggie lowered her head and she turned to Con. ‘You’ll look after her for me, won’t you?’
His expression was unreadable. In answer, he squeezed Maggie’s shoulder. ‘When will ye go?’
‘When Miss Sharp and her mother are laid to rest. I couldn’t go without saying goodbye.’
He nodded curtly and strode to the door. He shot Maggie and Ellen a half-smile over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be away, so. Goodnight.’ His gaze then flicked to her. ‘Goodbye, acushla,’ he murmured.
Sally hadn’t time to respond. Within seconds, he’d gone, leaving her staring helplessly at the door.