Joan caught Lacey’s hand and squeezed it as they strolled towards Brearley’s Mill. ‘I’m ever so pleased everything’s going right for you and Nathan,’ she said. They were early and enjoying the walk on this bright, warm morning.
Lacey returned the squeeze. ‘Thanks, Joanie; it’s a weight off me mind, I can tell you. Mind you, his mother’s still a bit frosty, although the more she sees of me the less obvious it is. She’s either given up in disgust or she’s beginning to realise I’m not something nasty she trod in.’
Joan sniggered. ‘She’d be daft not to see how grand you are. I’ll bet before long she’ll genuinely like you. Stanley’s Mam hates me.’ Her shoulders drooped and her face wore an expression of defeat. ‘I can’t do anything to please her. She finds fault with everything I do an’ she interferes in every conversation me an’ Stanley have. We’ve no privacy except when we’re in bed, an’ even then she’s laid on t’other side o’ t’wall listening.’
Lacey’s heart went out to Joan: Hettie Micklethwaite was the kind of mother-in-law every girl dreaded. ‘Poor Joanie,’ she said, giving her a sympathetic hug as they paused on the kerb to let the traffic go by, ‘does Stanley know how miserable you are? Is there no chance of you finding your own place?’
Joan shook her head. ‘What with Hettie taking most of Stanley’s wages for letting us live with her we can’t save enough to rent anywhere else. Most landlords want four weeks rent up front.’
There being no solution to Joan’s problem, Lacey voiced her own as they reached the Mill gates. ‘I’m worried about our Jimmy. He’s ever so sly these days. He riles Mam and Dad something shocking. He’s out till all hours and gives cheek whenever he’s in the house. You haven’t seen him up to owt, have you?’ Joan living in the town, she was more likely to know what he had been up to there.
‘I’ve seen him hanging around wi’ Arty Bincliffe once or twice. I would have mentioned it ‘cos I know you don’t like Arty, but what wi’ you having problems at work an’ wi’ your love life I didn’t like to say owt.’
Lacey shook her head in exasperation. ‘Let me know next time, Joanie. I’ll have to sort something out.’
*
Lacey glanced at the clock on the mantelshelf. It was almost ten thirty and Jimmy was not yet home; again. Joshua and Matt had retired at nine and Edith not long after, all three grumbling at the late hours Jimmy kept. ‘It’s a wonder he can get up for his work of a morning,’ Edith moaned. ‘Who he’s with an’ what he’s up to at this time o’ night ‘as me fair pothered.’
Saddened to see her mother so worried, and plagued by her own suspicions, Lacey decided to have a word with Matt in the morning and to tell him about Jimmy’s friendship with Arty Bincliffe. Maybe then Matt would make Jimmy see sense, and failing that he’d deal with Arty in his own way. By, but she’d give Jimmy a piece of her mind when he came home.
She picked up the book Nathan had given her earlier in the week. ‘Read this,’ he had said, ‘it’s considered quite intriguing.’ It was a copy of Sons and Lovers by a new author called D.H. Lawrence.
Lacey was soon lost in the story, but rather than enjoying it she found herself assailed by niggling doubts about her own relationship with Nathan. Had he given her the book simply for her to draw comparisons between their association and that of the characters in the novel? Did he see himself in the woman who marries out of her class and is bitterly disappointed? Or did he cast himself in the role of the son who denies his own happiness for the love of his domineering mother? Had Nathan bought the book for himself and, after reading it, thought it an easy way to point out the pitfalls awaiting them should they marry; was this his way of letting her down gently? Lacey closed her eyes, deep in thought.
Cinders rattled in the grate. Startled, Lacey opened her eyes, surprised to find herself in the chair by the fire and not in bed. She glanced up at the clock on the mantel; half past four, she’d slept for almost six hours. Suddenly remembering why she was in the chair, she leapt up and climbed the stairs to the bedroom Jimmy shared with Matt. Matt lay flat on his back with his mouth open, his snores reverberating in the sparsely furnished room. Jimmy’s bed was empty. She woke Matt.
*
The Black Maria trundled down Manchester Road on its way to the Police Station in Huddersfield. Jimmy sat in the back, his head in his hands, Arty and two of his mates alongside. Jimmy pressed his fingertips into his eyes to stem tears he was desperate to suppress. Arty and the other lads sat back nonchalantly, legs outstretched, cocky expressions on their faces. A ride in a Black Maria was not a new experience for them.
Inside the Police Station the desk sergeant recorded details in a thick ledger: names, addresses, the part each man had played in the robbery. When Jimmy gave his name the desk sergeant said, ‘Joshua Barraclough’s lad?’ He sounded shocked. Jimmy hung his head, ashamed.
‘You silly young bugger; how did you get mixed up wi’ that lot?’ the arresting officer said, as he pushed Jimmy into a cell and slammed the door.
*
At first light Matt went in search of Jimmy. He came back with the news that the warehouse at Brearley’s Mill had been broken into, the thieves attempting to steal bales of finished worsted and four men had been arrested.
Later that morning a police car drew up outside Netherfold’s yard gate. Through the kitchen window, Lacey watched two policemen climb out, her heart heavy. She had taken the day off work; she had a terrible feeling Edith would need her. Joshua and Matt sat by the fire, sheep temporarily forgotten. Edith stood aimlessly at the sink.
Lacey opened the door, the policemen shuffling in and removing their helmets. Four pairs of eyes fixed on them but no-one spoke. The policemen, faced with the abject misery of those they counted as friends, looked uncomfortable.
At last, Joshua broke the silence. ‘Go on then. How bad is it?’
‘Bad enough, Jos,’ said Bert Pickles, the older of the two policemen, ‘that’s if I’m right in saying your lad’s James Barraclough, seventeen years of age, and currently employed in the warehouse at Brearley’s.’
Joshua’s face crumpled. He rose unsteadily to face Bert. ‘What’s he done?’
‘He says he were asked to leave one o’ t’warehouse doors unlocked at finishin’ time so’s Arty Bincliffe an’ his lot could get in later. Trouble is, the daft young bugger hung about an’ helped ‘em rob the place.’
Lacey’s heart sank. Typical Jimmy, trying to prove he was a big man. ‘Is our Jimmy being charged with robbery,’ she asked.
Bert sucked on his teeth. ‘It’s worse than that. T’nightwatchman, Fred Sykes, spotted ‘em an’ raised t’alarm. It appears Jonas Brearley’s not as soft as you might think. What with there havin’ been a few robberies in t’valley in t’past months he’d taken precautions by employing an extra fellow, armed wi’ a shotgun. They—’
Edith’s cry split the air. ‘Has our Jimmy been shot?’ She clutched Joshua’s arm, her eyes riveted on Bert.
‘Nay lass, don’t take on,’ Bert said kindly. ‘Nobody wa’ shot, but in t’altercation Fred Sykes were clobbered over t’ead. He’s in a bad way; very bad.’ He paused to let the importance of his words register. ‘What wi’ a badly injured man to take into consideration, they could all be sent down for a long spell.’
‘Gaol!’ An image of her feckless younger brother incarcerated with rough, tough criminals flashed before Lacey’s eyes. ‘Was it our Jimmy injured Fred?’
Bert raised his brows and clamped his lips, his expression bemused. ‘That’s just it, lass, nobody’s saying, an’ unless one of ‘em owns up they’ll all be to blame.’ He shook his head despairingly. ‘What wa’ your Jimmy doin’ mixed up wi’ that lot any road?’
No-one answered, not even Lacey.
Bert replaced his helmet, adopting a more formal attitude. ‘We’ll keep you informed. He’s been charged an’ will plead his case in court afore t’end o’ t’week.’ Then, reverting to being a family friend, he added, ‘You might like to go down to t’station an’ see if there’s owt you can do.’
Bert and his colleague departed, the Barracloughs stunned into silence until Lacey cut through the shrouds of misery cloaking them. ‘I’m to blame for this,’ she said. Uncomprehending, Joshua, Matt and Edith stared at her.
‘I knew our Jimmy was hanging about with Arty Bincliffe; I told him to put a stop to it. He promised me he would and I wanted to believe him. I even warned Arty off. I threatened I’d get our Matt to sort him out.’
‘Why the bloody hell didn’t you then?’ Matt roared. ‘Why didn’t you say summat afore now?’
Lacey shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. ‘I didn’t want our Jimmy to think we were picking on him, us making out he wasn’t to be trusted. He wants to be thought of as a grown-up, as smart and tough as the rest of ‘em. Trouble is, he’s just a silly young lad trying to be a man. We’ve got to help him.’
‘Trusted! A man!’ Joshua thrashed the air with clenched fists, his cheeks puce. ‘He’s no son o’ mine after what he’s done. Bringin’ shame on our family, us as have had a good name in this valley for generations. He’ll not be back in this house, let me tell you. He can go to prison for all I care.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Jos,’ wailed Edith. ‘Our Jimmy won’t last a crack in gaol. He’s only a bairn. We’ve got to help him. We can’t just pretend it never happened.’
Joshua threw himself into a chair by the fire. ‘Aye, well, you lot can go an’ make fools o’ yourselves but I’m done wi’ him.’
‘We don’t even know if he’s guilty,’ Lacey cried. Even to her ears, the words sounded pathetic.
‘Course we do,’ Matt shouted. ‘Bert Pickles wouldn’t get summat’ like that wrong. An’ if Arty Bincliffe did threaten him, our Jimmy had only to come to me an’ I’d have sorted it.’
‘I thought I already had,’ Lacey said, inwardly cursing her own stupid arrogance for believing she’d frightened off a man as devious as Arty. She grabbed her coat from the hook behind the door. ‘I’m going to the Police Station. If anyone cares to join me, you’re welcome.’
*
In the Police Station Lacey, Matt and Edith listened patiently as the desk sergeant repeated what Bert Pickles had already told them: the only fresh information being that Jimmy hadn’t denied the charges, neither had he implicated the person who had struck Fred Sykes.
‘Can we see him?’ Lacey begged.
The desk sergeant frowned; then unable to resist the pleading green eyes and the pretty face he asked them to follow him. He left them in a small room furnished with a table and three chairs. A short while later a different officer entered, leading Jimmy by the arm. Indicating for Jimmy to sit in one chair and Lacey and Edith the others, the officer leaned against the wall by the door and Matt stood behind Edith’s chair, a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Pale and clearly terrified, Jimmy perched on the chair, his head down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled over and again.
‘Sorry you got caught, or sorry that you’ve shamed this family? Look what it’s done to your mother,’ snarled Matt.
Edith, her face leached of colour and tears brimming her eyes, gazed at her precious younger son. ‘Wa’ you thievin’, Jimmy, or did somebody force you to do it?’ she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.
Jimmy stared at the floor.
‘Answer your mother,’ Lacey snapped, then more kindly added, ‘tell us your side of it, Jimmy.’
‘There’s nowt to tell. We wa’ doin’ a job an’ we got caught.’
‘Was it Arty who forced you to do it?’ Lacey didn’t want to believe Jimmy had carried out a robbery of his own free will. ‘You must tell ‘em if it was.’
‘You don’t split on your mates.’
At that Lacey lost patience. ‘Mates! Mates don’t involve you in robberies, Jimmy. They used you and you were willing to let ‘em because it made you feel like a big man.’
Jimmy flushed and glancing across at the policeman asked, ‘Can I go now?’
Shocked to think he was dismissing them, Lacey jumped up. ‘You can’t leave it like this, you little fool. You’re admitting you’re guilty.’
‘I am.’ Jimmy stood up and walked towards the door. ‘I wa’ doin’ it for you, Lacey.’ He slouched out of the room.
*
In the weaving shed the next morning, Lacey ignored the pointing fingers and the gossiping mouths as news of her brother’s involvement in the robbery flitted from loom to loom. She had been in two minds about whether to stay at home, but knowing she would have to face up to the scandal sooner or later she decided otherwise. What would Nathan – and Jonas – think of her now? And what had Jimmy meant when he’d told her he did it for her sake?
‘Not so high an’ mighty now are you, you jumped up little tart,’ Mary Collier mouthed. ‘The boss’s son’ll not be so fond of you after this mullarky.’
‘Don’t mind her, Lacey,’ Joan mouthed, her plump face wreathed in sympathy. ‘If it wa’ one of hers had done it she’d keep her gob shut. It’s not your fault.’
Lacey didn’t bother to mouth back that she thought it was exactly that. She could have stopped Jimmy going off the rails had she not kept the knowledge to herself. Her head throbbing in tandem with her loom, Lacey puzzled over how she might help Jimmy.
By the time the hooter signalled breakfast time, Lacey felt ill. She didn’t want to go out to the yard but her frazzled nerves and the heat in the shed made her nauseous; she needed fresh air. Yet she dreaded coming into contact with Nathan or Jonas.
Halfway down the yard, on her way to the riverbank, Nathan appeared at Lacey’s side. He usually avoided drawing attention to their relationship but, given the circumstances, Lacey was hardly surprised to see him. He hurried her into a secluded corner behind the spinning shed.
‘Is it true your brother was involved in last night’s robbery?’
Lacey nodded dumbly.
Nathan’s face darkened. ‘That’s terrible. What on earth was he thinking?’
Lacey sighed. ‘Our Jimmy doesn’t think; he’s young an’ feckless. I’m not defending what he did, it was wrong, but I believe he had a reason for doing it.’
‘For the money, I imagine?’ Nathan said, harshly.
‘No,’ Lacey replied, despairingly. ‘There’s more to it than that, but I don’t know what. At first I thought he’d gone along with it to impress his so-called friends; that he thought he was being manly. Now I’m not so sure.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘The last thing he said before we left him at the Police Station was that he’d done it for me.’
Nathan looked askance. ‘For you: whatever did he mean by that?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ cried Lacey. Utterly distraught, she dashed her knuckles against the rough stone of the spinning shed’s wall, wincing at the self-inflicted pain. ‘There must be something we can do; find a solicitor, someone to plead his case. Let the judge know Jimmy’s not a hardened criminal, just a foolish boy, easily led.’ She gazed hopefully into Nathan’s face.
Nathan leaned back against the wall. ‘You’re clutching at straws, Lacey. Your brother was caught red-handed. He’ll more than likely receive a custodial sentence, maybe two or three years in gaol.’
Lacey sagged visibly. She had thought Nathan would support her; tell her what to do to help Jimmy. She clutched at his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Instead of comforting her, Nathan said, ‘It’ll do your reputation harm; mine too.’ He pulled away from her, adding reflectively, ‘just when everything was going so well for you with my family.’
A spurt of anger flared in Lacey’s chest. She looked into Nathan’s eyes, her own flashing dangerously. ‘It’ll not do much for our Jimmy’s either. An’ if it bothers you being involved with somebody whose reputation’s tarnished then I suggest you leave me alone; forget all about me.’
Nathan gazed at her sadly. ‘I don’t think I could do that, Lacey, but your brother’s actions have forced me into this situation. It makes our relationship look ridiculous. Don’t forget, it’s my Mill he robbed.’
This last remark, accompanied as it was by a look of utter revulsion, stabbed Lacey to the core. Did Nathan have to condemn him and be so pompous when all she needed was his love and support?
Nathan walked a few steps away from her. ‘I just hope Mother doesn’t hear of his involvement and connect it to you. I didn’t realise your brother was a thieving, no-good tearaway.’
Lacey jumped to Jimmy’s defence. ‘He isn’t. He’s just a foolish lad who’s been led astray.’
Nathan’s expression was a mixture of disappointment and frustration masked with contempt ‘He’s a thief, Lacey.’
Lacey’s laugh was harsh and bitter. ‘I can’t fathom you, Nathan Brearley. One minute you’re eulogising in defence of the working classes and the next you’re kicking a poor, misguided lad when he’s down. You’re more concerned with your mother’s disapproval than you are for me. I didn’t rob your bloody mill!’ She sagged against the wall, the fight knocked out of her. In a low voice she said, ‘If you truly loved me, you’d understand.’
Exasperated, Nathan said, ‘He robbed our Mill, Lacey.’ He looked away from her, his gaze fixed on the flowing waters of the river. In the distance, thunder rumbled. Lacey looked towards the sound. The sky was darkening, huge rainclouds banked up one on the other. Suddenly, a jagged flash of lightning swiped the sky. The Sword of Damocles, Lacey thought.
When Nathan next spoke the anguish in his voice broke her heart. ‘He ruined our chances: yours and mine. I’ll always love you, but,’ he paused, searching for words, ‘whatever we had has been damaged beyond repair by your brother’s behaviour. My father’s bound to withdraw his approval of us given the circumstances, and I’m not prepared to give up the Mill for the sake of a thief. And I only mentioned Mother because if we were to marry she’d object to having a convict in the family.’
Lacey tossed her head and glared at him. ‘Did it ever occur to you that I might object to marrying into a bunch of self-righteous, unforgiving snobs?’ Too late she added, ‘I think we’d better leave it at that, Nathan, before we both say something we regret.’ She stepped away from him and, shrouded in misery, she ran back to the weaving shed.