FOR THE SECOND time, a bounding Shield almost knocked Sally from her feet.
‘Will you calm down, for goodness’ sake?’ she chided, steadying the basket. ‘Be patient, boy.’ Despite her firmness, she couldn’t contain a sad smile. He’d missed Grace’s as much as she.
Since leaving Maggie’s, he’d seemed to sense where they headed and had leapt about like a puppy the length of the street. Wetness touched her hand and she glanced down. Tongue lolling, he stared back solemnly, as though apologising, and chuckling, she scratched his ear. However, when Boslam Street came into view, all laughter left her. As excited as Shield was, she felt nothing but anxiety. Yet visit she must. To return to Bolton, she needed her family’s help.
As she opened the door, Grace’s face contorted in shocked delight. ‘Oh, love! Oh, come in, come in!’
Sally’s arms ached to embrace her but she had to ask. ‘Stan …? Is he at work?’
There was a break in Grace’s voice. ‘Aye. Come in.’
She followed her inside. Her gaze went to the window and the empty space where Peggy’s bed had been. The shelf was free of medicine bottles, the chair in which Grace had sat hunched over her dying daughter now against the wall. Averting her eyes, she placed the basket on the table.
Grace peered inside and smiled. She lifted a tiny hand and kissed it. Looking at Sally, her eyes were bright. ‘I’m that glad to see you both. Aye, and you,’ she added with a laugh when Shield nudged her arm. ‘’Ere, I heard about the owd ’un and her daughter. Shocking, in’t it?’
‘There was nothing we could do. The butcher made a grab for the knife but, well, it happened so fast. Oh, Aunt Grace, the blood … so much blood. He said in all his years as a butcher, he’d never seen so much before that day; it was like stepping into an abattoir … Never, for the rest of my days, will I forget that image.’
Grace slapped a hand to her mouth then grasped her niece’s fingers. ‘I didn’t know you were there when … Oh, love. I wanted to come and see you at your friend’s, knew you’d be upset. You’d grown close to the daughter, hadn’t you? If I’d known you’d seen …’ She looked away guiltily. ‘I didn’t, I mean I, I didn’t know whether—’
‘It’s fine, Aunt Grace.’ She could see helplessness etched in every line of her aunt’s face. ‘If Stan discovered you’d been to see me, it would have caused you no end of grief.’
‘I don’t know how you can be so understanding. My heart’s breaking for thee day and night. I’ve tried talking to him … Me and Ed are at a loss what to do. You should be here, where you belong, with your family.’
Sally stared at their clasped hands. ‘How are you coping, with … Peggy?’ she asked, changing the subject. Grace was in an impossible situation and it didn’t look as though circumstances would change soon. Raking over it was pointless.
‘It’s been hard, aye. But I know she’s at peace and in no more pain. It helps to think on that.’
Sally nodded then said quietly, ‘Aunt Grace, I wanted to ask if Uncle Ed would make arrangements for the cart. I’ve decided to return to Bolton once the Sharps are laid to rest.’
‘Return? You mean visit?’ Grace’s eyes widened when Sally glanced away. ‘Nay. Nay, tha can’t leave for good. Tha can’t, lass! He’ll come round, our Stan. He will, I know it. He needs time, is all.’
‘No, he won’t. You know it as well as I.’
‘Nay, he will! And what about that swine, Joseph? You’d not know peace with him on your doorstep. You’d allus be looking over your shoulder. Manchester’s your home, lass.’
‘No, Aunt Grace, it’s not. Don’t you see? Since the day I arrived, there’s been nothing but trouble. Stan’s right. I should never have come.’ She shook her head as Grace made to protest. ‘It’s true. I’ve thought about this long and hard. Settling in Bolton is impossible, I realise that. I intend to visit the Morgans and afterwards …?
‘The only places I know, where I know anyone, are Bolton and here. I cannot stay in one and don’t wish to stay in the other. Maybe I’ll try somewhere new; Preston, perhaps, or Oldham. It will mean starting afresh, alone, but I truly believe a new beginning is what I need. I must leave. I need to see Mrs Morgan. I need to get away from here.’
Grace’s eyes dulled. None the less, she nodded. ‘I’ll ask Ed when he gets in.’
‘Thank you. I’ll send word when I’m ready.’
‘I’m so sorry for how things turned out. Your mam would be turning in her grave if she knew how I’ve let you down.’
‘You haven’t. Don’t think that.’
As she’d done with Jonathan, Grace kissed her hand. ‘Will you have a brew or must you be away?’
It was now Thursday and she planned to call at Christ Church on her return to Maggie’s to enquire over the funerals. A ripple of horror had spread throughout the town; the sorry business had been on everyone’s lips. She’d seen the looks whenever she ventured out, had heard the whispers. But she’d heard nothing about the burials.
Surely they would be soon? An investigation into the deaths wasn’t necessary. There had been no mistaking the causes of death and no one besides the deceased was involved. She could see no reason for delay.
‘I will, thank you. I have to call at Christ Church but there’s no hurry.’
Busy at the fire, Grace glanced over her shoulder. ‘The Roundhouse?’ she asked, as locals knew it, due to its circular structure.
‘I hoped to find out when the funerals will be.’
‘Funerals? There will only be the one, lass.’
‘One?’
‘Sally love, Miss Sharp won’t receive the same as the owd ’un. She committed murder and self-murder. She can’t be buried in sacred ground, for the Church don’t allow it.’ Grace shook her head in disbelief. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Mrs Sharp provoked her, she must have done! Surely the Church will understand? Surely they’ll see she was as much to blame? What Miss Sharp did was dreadful, I’m not denying that, but surely …?’ Her words died when Grace shook her head again. ‘But she doesn’t deserve that! She was the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met. She deserves a decent burial. You agree, don’t you, Aunt Grace?’
‘It’s not for me nor anyone else to say. Them’s the rules. When all’s said and done, she took a life. It’s a mortal sin, lass, whichever way you look at it. In any case, she’d have been buried in unconsecrated ground, for if she’d lived, she’d have been hanged for murder and buried within the prison walls.’
Sally was lost for words. Maggie hadn’t mentioned anything, must have assumed she’d know. How had she been so naive? Her ignorance of the world and its workings was bewildering. That’s what growing up in the confines of the workhouse does, she realised. Your life is within those walls. You’re blind to the outside and its conventions.
Grace pushed a cup across. ‘Drink your tea, it’ll calm your nerves.’ She watched her, numb with shock, take tiny sips. ‘You all right, love?’
‘No, Aunt Grace, I’m not. This isn’t right.’
‘As far as the Church is concerned, she’s not entitled to the comfort of religion. There’s no way round it; it is how it is. Least they don’t bury them at crossroads no more, like when I were a lass. Crowds would gather to watch, morbid beggars.’ Grace shuddered at the memories. ‘Miss Sharp will be buried in private. Be grateful for that.’
‘So what will happen? Where will she be laid to rest?’
‘In a plot away from the main churchyard.’
‘She’ll be tossed into the ground, just like that? No service, prayers? No mourners to utter a kind word or goodbye?’
‘That’s the top and bottom of it. Come on, eh, love? Don’t dwell on what can’t be changed.’
Despite the scorch of injustice and disgust, Sally nodded. She didn’t want to spoil this meeting; she didn’t know when she’d next see her aunt.
An hour later, she and Grace shared an emotional farewell on the step. Wiping her tears, she finally backed away.
‘Goodbye, Aunt Grace. Please give my love to Uncle Ed. And Stan.’
Apron pressed to her mouth, Grace could only nod.
Sally tore her gaze from the crumpled face and walked away. Unlike Shield, who turned and whimpered, she didn’t look back. She’d gain nothing besides more heartache. Of that, her mind and body could take no more.
Her heart screamed for Maggie and Ellen’s comfort, but she didn’t turn for Davies Street. Instead, she headed down Carruthers Street and on to Every Street. Passing through the gates, Grace’s words echoed in her mind:
‘Them’s the rules. There’s no way round it; it is how it is. Don’t dwell on what can’t be changed.’
She had no doubt Grace spoke truthfully. But was there really no way round it? Surely it was worth her trying? Covering her head with her shawl, she whispered to Shield to stay, and slipped inside the church.
The clergyman who had conducted Peggy’s funeral smiled warmly. ‘Good afternoon. Please, come in. I don’t bite,’ he added, eyes twinkling, when she hesitated.
Sally blinked in surprise. This one was certainly nothing like the preacher! Hope fluttering in her breast, she stepped forward. ‘Good afternoon, Father Collins. I’d like a word, if I may?’
‘Of course, my child. What is it you wish to discuss?’
A glance around showed the church was otherwise empty and she relaxed somewhat. ‘It’s rather a delicate issue. It’s about Miss Prudence Sharp.’
His eyebrows rose, the smile vanishing. ‘Oh?’
Her resolve waned at his change in demeanour but she swallowed her nerves. ‘There’s no easy way of asking so I may as well just say it. Miss Sharp committed a terrible sin but there were reasons, Father.
‘She suffered appallingly at her mother’s hands and I believe, from what I knew of her, she simply … snapped. A body can only bear so much. She wouldn’t have planned what she did, I’d stake my life on it. Her mother beat her regularly. She treated her as no one should be treated, let alone by a parent.
‘Miss Sharp’s mental state at the time, well, she cannot have been of sound mind, for as God is my witness, I can truthfully say that woman would never have committed such a deed. She suffered enough in life. Please, don’t make her suffer in death. Couldn’t you allow her a proper burial? Couldn’t you, Father? Please?’
He released his breath slowly. ‘Come, Mrs …?’
‘Swann, Father.’
‘Mrs Swann, sit down.’ He motioned to a pew and sat beside her. ‘I see you are grieving, my child. You cared a great deal for the late Miss Sharp?’
Tears stung. She nodded.
‘You must have been a comfort to her. She often felt alone.’
‘I didn’t realise you knew her.’
‘Oh, indeed. She used to attend mass regularly. Not to pray as such, as I recall. I believe it was sanctuary she sought. As her mother’s health declined, she had less time to attend but when the opportunity arose, she would come.’ His eyes softened. ‘She was a troubled soul, Mrs Swann. I’m aware of the difficulties she faced with her mother, indeed I am—’
‘However?’ she cut in quietly. ‘There is one coming, isn’t there, Father?’
He gave a small sigh. ‘Mrs Swann, what you are asking is quite impossible. I appreciate your feelings on the matter but, as saddened as I am by what has occurred, a conventional burial within the main churchyard is simply out of the question.’
She’d heard enough. Deep down, she’d known she was wasting her time. And to think she’d hoped he was different from that fiend, Bailey. They were all the same.
‘This may bring God’s wrath upon my head but to be perfectly honest, Father, I’m beyond caring. I say the Church is wrong. You’re aware of Miss Sharp’s suffering, you understand, and yet …?’ She nodded stiffly and rose. ‘I’ll trouble you no further and shall take my leave before I say something I may regret. Good day to you.’
‘Please, sit down.’
Lifting the basket, she shook her head. ‘I don’t believe there’s anything left to say, do you, Father? You’ve made your decision quite clear. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’
Father Collins laid a hand on her wrist. Though he was clearly aware they were the only ones present, his eyes flicked around the church, then to the door.
‘You didn’t allow me to finish,’ he murmured. ‘A conventional burial within the main churchyard is out of the question. However … Sit down, Mrs Swann, and listen carefully.’
Tommy stared across the table. The scraping had gone on for hours and with each passing minute, his irritation mounted. Finally, he could stand it no longer.
‘You don’t have to do this.’
Absorbed in his creation, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration, Shaun didn’t look up. ‘Eh?’
‘I said you don’t have to do this.’ He struggled to keep an even tone. ‘It’s a reet nice thought, like, but …’
‘Don’t you like it, our Tommy?’
He glanced away, rubbing a hand across his eyes. ‘Aye, lad, course I do. Ignore me. I’m tired, is all.’
Shaun’s face spread in a smile. ‘It’ll look better, soon, and I want to do it, honest. This is my way of saying thanks. If it weren’t for thee, I’d not have my apprenticeship. You expect your parents to want the best for you, but for your brother … Well, I’m grateful.’
‘I did nowt. It weren’t my brass made it happen.’
‘Oh, aye, aye. I’m grateful to Mrs Goden, an’ all.’
Tommy’s jaw clenched to hear Sally’s marital name but he forced a nod.
‘You believed in me. You went out of your way to change my life. I’ll not forget it.’
The noticeable change in his brother brought a genuine smile. The lad had grown up.
Shaun put down his knife, lifted the block of wood from the pile of shavings and studied it through narrowed eyes. He traced his fingers along two mounds, frowned as though dissatisfied and reached for the knife.
Tommy watched swift strokes add definition to a flat cap. When Shaun began scratching a bonnet’s outline on the next mound, his tolerance burned out. He scraped back his chair.
Seated by the fire, his mother glanced up as he crossed to the window, then returned her attention to her darning. But his father continued watching him. Arthur’s gaze strayed to Shaun then back to Tommy. He extinguished his pipe and rose.
Ivy looked up again when her husband extracted coins from his pocket and counted them. Arthur flashed her an easy smile.
‘Now, wench, don’t be looking at me like that.’
‘Well, on a Thursday? You’ll not get up in t’ morning. It’s murder trying to rouse you when you’ve had a sup the night afore.’
‘I’ll be up.’ His father dropped the coins into his pocket and nodded to Tommy. ‘Coming forra jar, lad?’
Ivy clicked her tongue. ‘There better be no moaning from you, neither, the morrow. If you don’t rise from your bed first time I shout, you’ll get that pail of cowd water over your head,’ she warned, pointing to where it stood beside the hearth. ‘That goes for thee, an’ all,’ she told her husband.
Donning jackets and caps, they rolled their eyes at a grinning Shaun.
‘Aye, I saw that! Oh go on, you pair of inebriates, afore it gets too late.’
Smiling, they left the cottage. They passed through the row in companionable silence and it wasn’t until they were sitting with their tankards that they spoke.
‘So what’s this in aid of?’ Tommy asked.
‘Just fancied a jar.’
‘At this hour, on a Thursday? Come on, I’m not daft.’
His father took a long draught of ale and wiped his mouth on his hand. ‘I thought it were time we had that talk.’
‘About what?’
‘About you and that Goden lass.’ He cocked an eyebrow in surprise when Tommy thumped the tabletop.
‘Why won’t folk stop calling her that? She’s nowt to do with him any more. She’s Sally. Just call her Sally.’ Slowly, his face crumpled in horror. ‘I’m sorry, I … I’m sorry.’
His father gazed at him. ‘Lord above, you’ve got it worse than I thought. What’s wrong with you, lad? You barely know her and besides owt else, she’s a wedded woman!’
‘D’you not think I’ve tried ridding her from my thoughts?’
‘Try bloody harder! It’s madness.’
‘I went to Manchester to see her to … Well, I don’t know. I didn’t think on what I’d do when I arrived. I just … I had to go.’
Arthur raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Christ’s sake. And how did you plan on finding her? By tramping the lanes hoping to bump into her?’
A bitter smile touched his lips. ‘Aye, as it happens. And believe it or not, I did.’
‘Tha did what?’
‘See her. Can you believe it, the size of that place, the amount of folk up there? What are the chances?’
His father’s tankard paused midway to his mouth. ‘Oh, lad. Please don’t say you told her how you feel.’
‘Nay, don’t fret. As it turned out, she’s met someone. Hanging off some fella’s arm, she were. Reet ugly divil, an’ all,’ he lied, to soothe his ego.
‘So what now?’
Averting his eyes, he took a gulp of ale. ‘I’m going to ask Dolly to marry me.’
‘Why?’
The question threw him. He cursed inwardly when heat crept up his neck.
‘Son, I watched you with our Shaun. You couldn’t bear to look at that carving of you and Dolly, could you?’
Shame and terror coursed through him. It must have shown, for Arthur frowned.
‘Oh, what now? What have you done?’
Tommy crushed a fist to his mouth but couldn’t contain the words. ‘Sunday, by the river … May God forgive me, I lay with Dolly.’
‘For the love of God, you bloody fool, yer!’
The innkeeper looked across and Tommy touched his father’s sleeve. ‘Please, calm down.’
‘Calm down? Calm bloody down?’ His voice dropped to a growl. ‘You brainless young swine, d’you realise what you’ve done? What will her father say; not to mention your mam?’ He closed his eyes. ‘Lord, your mam. I’d not like to be in your boots when she hears.’
‘What am I to do?’
The answer was firm. ‘What tha said. Marry her.’
‘But I don’t love her. Well, I do, I think …’ Tommy prodded his chest. ‘It’s not enough, in here. I thought it were but since Sally—’
‘And what if she’s with child?’ A little of the anger had left his father’s tone but his eyes were steely. ‘You’ve no choice. You’ve deflowered the lass. No fella will want her, now. Get Sally from your mind. There’s no getting out of this. You’ll have to wed her.’
Emptiness filled him. ‘I am fond of her. I’d not hurt her for owt.’
‘You’ll do the right thing?’
‘Aye.’
‘You know, don’t you, if there were another way … if there were owt I could do, I would?’
A lump formed in Tommy’s throat at the sincerity in the gruff words. ‘Aye, I know. This is my mess and me alone must sort it. I’ll not shirk my duty. I’ll call on Dolly, Saturday, and if her father gives permission … I’ll ask for her hand.’
When Arthur went to refill their tankards, Tommy covered his face with his hands. He wouldn’t ruin her reputation, abandon her after having his way. He’d made his bed, he’d have to lie in it. Beside Dolly, every night, for the rest of his life …
‘Sally,’ he breathed. ‘Dear God, what have I done?’