WHEN PIP AWOKE, Peter was gone.
It was shortly after sunrise and most of the beds’ occupants were still snoring when she’d jolted from a bad dream. After slipping on her boots, she’d padded to the communal room only to find it empty. A feeling of sadness had overcome her and it remained with her still as she exited the lodging house and made off aimlessly down the frost-stroked street.
She would have liked the opportunity to thank the man who had come to her rescue last night. Plucking her from the cobbles and carrying her to safety, he’d saved her from God alone knew what fate – as he’d pointed out, the slums were a danger to man, beast, and all in between once the sun retired for the night. He’d shared what little food he’d had with her, not to mention the last of his brandy; all that kept his chill body warm most nights, no doubt. His bed, that he’d likely had to beg the brass to pay for, he’d given up for her. More importantly, he’d been kind, understanding. And he hadn’t expected nor wanted a single thing in return. Some folk – aye, there were still some around despite it feeling to the contrary at times – really were golden hearted.
Pip said a prayer for him. Then she wrapped her arms around herself as a shield from the cold and trudged on to London Road, where she knew it would be busiest.
Cotton mill and factory workers had long since begun their shifts, and mostly she encountered a multitude of street traders, hawkers, dead-eyed men scouring the city in search of a day’s work and swarms of barefoot children. Women were in short supply; those not in employment would be occupied tending to home and hearth.
She attempted to beg from one or two people but found the words wouldn’t come and, mumbling apologies, she’d scuttle off, face ablaze. She couldn’t do this alone. Realisation had panic gripping her chest like a physical thing. She didn’t want to – shouldn’t have to. She was guilty of nothing, nothing! Injustice stung afresh. She needed the lads, needed Bracken House. Lord, how would she survive? The sudden thought that if this was life from now on then she’d rather cease to be, entered her mind and instantly she was sorry. Folk desperate to live died by the second from all manner of causes the world over: disease, old age, even murder – who was she to warrant such a notion, young and healthy as she was? But oh, she was desperately lonely, afraid, hadn’t the slightest idea what she was to do.
On she roamed, with little thought or reason, and by midday, the gnawing hunger she’d felt upon awakening had developed, like a growling monster dwelling within her. Her throat was parched and her new boots had rubbed her heels to ribbons. The pain in her heart, however, outweighed all.
As the minutes and then hours crawled along, she found herself thinking more and more of Jess Hardman and her whisper to meet her today. What could she want? She detested her and the lads at the best of times; why choose to go out of her way to meet with Pip? Mind, the housemaid had said before, hadn’t she, that her hatred for Caroline Goldthorpe burned brighter. Did she have some plan or other to be rid of the lady, which she’d admitted she wanted to do, and needed her help to achieve it? Well, Hardman could go and whistle. As much as she disliked Lucy’s mother too, Pip wanted no part in whatever scheme the housemaid had up her sleeve.
Or do I? her mind whispered. Wouldn’t life be much easier all round if Caroline was gone? I might just be able to return to Bracken House if she was and … Common sense returned, scattering the tempting possibility from her mind. Despite everything, she didn’t want to seek revenge. She wasn’t that kind of a person. Caroline and others like her were the wicked ones, not she. Bitterness had no part in her life, never had, for it was a fruitless emotion sure to bring but misery to the one who harboured it. Her sins would catch up with the woman eventually, God always made sure of it. At least Pip’s conscience was clear and would remain so. The truth would out some day, it usually did.
No. Whatever Hardman was concocting, she wanted no part in it.
Nevertheless, Pip found herself walking in the direction of the station as the appointed hour approached. Glancing up and down the street, she awaited the maid’s familiar figure impatiently. She wanted to see her, aye, to find out how the lads were. Had they been allowed to stay on at Bracken House? Oh, she hoped so. After all, they hadn’t been accused of anything, had they? There was no reason – or at least Caroline surely hadn’t invented one just yet – for them to be cast out. Despite her feelings of betrayal, abandonment, she must also know that Cook was well. Tabby, she missed her too. And Lucy.
Oh Miss, why didn’t you speak out, tell them I was innocent, that it was all lies? I thought we were friends. She swallowed down tears. She couldn’t be angry with her. The blame lay not with her, not a bit. She was but a child, one who had been manipulated by her own mother. She’d forced her daughter to lie, caused her untold grief and upset, it had been clear. What parent would do such a thing? She couldn’t fathom the actions at all.
Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Still Pip stood, eyes trained to the corner of the street. Another score crawled by, and still there was no sign of her. After an hour, it was clear Hardman wouldn’t show and Pip had to swallow disappointed tears. What had kept the housemaid from coming? she wondered, turning reluctantly and walking away. Had something else occurred at Bracken House? Or had it just been a spiteful ploy to hurt Pip further? Was Hardman, at this moment, laughing to herself with thoughts of Pip standing here in the cold; had she never had any intention of meeting her? Oh, to hell with them all!
Dashing away her spilling tears with the back of her hand, cursing the day she’d ever set eyes on Bracken House, Pip picked up her skirts and ran.
What took her down Garrick Street’s narrow road, she didn’t know. Her feet seemed to have taken on a life of their own. Or perhaps she wanted to feel close to her mam? Either way, she wished she hadn’t; the sight of the sad-coloured, tightly packed terraced houses had her shivering with grief. Misty eyes sought out their cellar of old, and for an age she simply stared at it, thinking, feeling. It appeared more run-down than she remembered. Or had love cast it in a pleasant sheen when she’d lived here with her poor mother? She couldn’t say. Her gaze strayed down the steep steps to settle on the battered door. Again, she pictured in her mind it swinging open and her mother emerging, matted shawl draped across her shoulders, brown curls bouncing and lips parted in smile. The sting of her tears grew unbearable; she closed her eyes.
‘Pip?’
The word tapped on the edges of the fog filling her head. Breath catching in her throat, her eyelids parted slowly. Half expecting that she’d conjured the past back to life, she blinked at the door below. But no – still it stood closed. No mam filling the doorway. No one, nothing. Her lips trembled in disappointment. Hunger was toying with her, had her senses confused, that’s what. Shaking her head, she squeezed her eyes shut once more.
‘Oh, lass.’
There was no mistaking it this time; someone was speaking. But … who …? Pip opened her eyes again, turning this time, and her brow creased in a deep frown. The woman standing behind her wore her shawl wrapped tightly, not lying loose. Nor was her hair rich chestnut and unbound, but iron grey collected at her nape in a knot. It wasn’t Mam, but Cook. And Simon was by her side! How, why …? What were they doing here?
‘Cook? Eeh, Simon!’
‘God alive.’ Cook gazed back in amazed relief. ‘Thank the heavens above! Ay, lovey, where’s tha been?’
Before Pip could answer, the lad caught her in a crushing embrace. Then, pulling back, he shook her none too gently by the shoulders. ‘Where the hell have you been? Me and Cook, here, have been scouring these streets in search of thee for most of the night. You’ve had us worried summat sick!’
Tears welled up at his harshness. She tried to hug him again but he sidestepped her, eyebrows knotted, face dark. ‘Lad—’
‘Why didn’t you settle down in the privy, as we normally used to of a night? I’d have found you right away if you had. Daft, that’s what you are!’
‘I, I did! But that fella, you remember the gentleman what tried hurting Mack, he were at it across the way from me with another and—’
‘You went after him?’ Simon’s tone was incredulous.
‘What’s this, now?’ Cook looked horrified. ‘What gentleman?’
‘Some filthy bleeder we’ve crossed paths with afore,’ Simon ground out, ‘who’s a taste for young flesh – and this ’un, here, went after him!’
‘I had to. The poor little mite were crying … but he escaped and I managed to, an’ all. A kindly man offered me shelter in a lodging house for the night, so all’s well.’
‘All’s … all’s well? After the night we’ve had? We thought we spotted thee at one point, called out your name, but nay.’
Simon broke off to give an angry shake of his head and Pip sighed inwardly. She’d believed, had she not, that she heard her name called last night when fleeing from that varmint? Yet injury and numbing terror had affected her logic. Oh, if only she’d turned!
‘Owt could have occurred,’ added Simon.
‘I just … didn’t think. You weren’t there!’ she burst out on a sob.
‘Aye, for you abandoned me and Bread, that’s why! Norra goodbye, nowt!’ He dragged a hand across his mouth. ‘What were you playing at, fleeing from Bracken House like that without a by-your-leave?’
‘You talk as though it were of my own choosing.’ Anger was filling Pip, now; he had no right to talk to her so, as if she was in the wrong. ‘I were slat out in case you’d not heard.’
Slowly, the animosity faded from his face. He heaved a sigh. ‘Aye. I know. All this … none of it’s your fault. I were just so bloody … nearly out of my mind with …’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘It matters not, now, anyroad. You’re well, so no harm done.’
He’d been afraid for her safety and not a little hurt that she’d run out on him. That was the reason for his anger. Although, being Simon, he wouldn’t say it, it was written all over his face. Pip’s eyes softened. Tentatively, she reached for his hand and curled her fingers around his. ‘Sorry, lad. I were fair mad with upset, weren’t thinking straight.’ She tightened her hold and he reciprocated. ‘By, I ain’t half missed you,’ she murmured. ‘Mack, an’ all. The lad’s all right?’
‘Aye.’ It was Cook who spoke. Her expression was one of deep guilt. ‘Oh, love. That I disbelieved you for even a second …’
‘You mean …?’ Pip looked from one to the other. ‘Cook, you know I were speaking the truth? You see it, now?’
‘I do. The master and his son along with me. Miss Lucy, she broke down shortly after you scarpered, told how she’d been forced to speak them wicked untruths. Eeh, the poor lass, she’s in pieces. Me and Albert, that we could be hoodwinked like that … It’s a good lass you are, we should have known. Oh, we’re that sorry, aye.’ Her eyes were watery. ‘I’d a feeling it would be worth checking this here street, recall you saying this is where you once dwelled and figured your memories of your poor mam would draw you here.’ She put her hand on Pip’s shoulder in a tender touch. ‘Come back, lass. Will thee?’
The sweet feeling of justice! She could have wept with relief. They believed her, finally. They thought ill of her no longer, wanted her home! ‘And her what put the young miss up to it?’ she forced herself to ask, for how would she ever know peace again there amidst Caroline’s evil doings?
‘Huh! That one’s gone.’
‘She … has?’
With a satisfied sniff, Cook nodded. ‘Aye and for good and proper, an’ all.’
Shock and confusion filled Pip but before she could probe further this extraordinary news, the woman spoke again:
‘Anyroad. There’ll be time aplenty for the telling of all that once we’re home.’ She flashed a hopeful smile. ‘That’s if you’ll have Bracken House, and us, back?’
Pip laughed tearfully. ‘But the master; he really wants me to return, an’ all?’
‘He does. So? What says thee?’
As if she even had to think about it! ‘Aye. Oh ta. Ta, Cook.’
As they turned for Ardwick Green, a host of thoughts swirled through her mind. Caroline was gone! But where? And what of Mr Philip? Cook had said that along with his father, he now knew the truth – what had his reaction been? More importantly, what reception would she receive from him upon her return? The guilty party was, after all, his wife … Just what had gone on?
Oh, but she ached to see Lucy, to reassure her she blamed her for naught, that they were still friends. Mack, Tabby also, she’d missed something awful. As for her mistress … ‘Oh, Miss Josephine!’ Pip stopped in her tracks to turn concerned eyes to the woman by her side. ‘She’s all right, ain’t she, Cook?’
‘Well as can be, you know? She’ll be fair pleased to see thee, mind.’
‘And me her. Eeh, I’m going home,’ Pip added in an excited whisper. Yet when they reached the corner, she hesitated.
Glancing over her shoulder, she cast a soft smile in the general direction of Nan Nuttall’s decrepit abode. In her mind, she thanked Peter for his kindness and promised she’d not forget him.
Then she linked her arms through her companions’ and the three continued on their way.