‘YOUR HAT, FATHER.’
Amos turned back inside the house and a weak smile lifted his mouth as he took it from Laura. ‘What am I doing? I could have sworn I had it on.’
‘Ain’t you feeling yourself this morning?’ she asked, frowning. ‘If it’s rest tha needs, happen Uncle Ambrose wouldn’t mind you beginning your new position the morrow instead—’
‘Nay.’ Pulling on the cap, Amos shrugged aside her concerns. ‘I’m well and good, well and good. A drop too much of porter last night, mebbe.’ Puffing out his chest, he nodded. ‘It’s excited I am to get started, aye.’
‘Well, if you’re sure …’
‘Aye. Right, then, I’ll see thee later, lass.’
Arms folded, her frown still lingering, Laura watched her father set off for his first day’s toil at the coal yard. Ambrose had already left over an hour before; she just prayed he wouldn’t work his new employee too hard. A thick head due to ale, she knew, wasn’t what ailed her father, despite what he’d said – he never partook in excess to feel the effects the following day. He was exhausted, plain and simple, that was the truth of it, though what could be done if he wouldn’t admit to it, stubborn as he was?
Swallowing down her worry, she made her way to the kitchen. Again, the idea of her obtaining employment, thus relieving some of the burden of support from Amos’s shoulders, piqued, and she went to seek out Bridget for advice. She found her busy at the fire and was glad she had her back to her, for it afforded Laura a few moments to regain her composure; the sight of the maid had reawakened memories of the noises from her uncle’s room last night, bringing with them a deep blush. However, when all was said and done, goings-on beneath this roof were none of her business; she had no desire to involve herself. How folk chose to conduct themselves really was no concern of hers, was it? She cleared her throat and, when the woman turned, fixed in place a smile.
‘Morning, colleen.’
‘Morning, Brid— Figg,’ Laura amended reluctantly when the maid made to protest. ‘Sorry, I keep forgetting.’
‘Sure, you’ll get used to it. ’Ere, you sit yourself down and I’ll pour ye some tea.’ She abandoned her work and crossed to the table, adding, ‘So how are you and your father settling in? Well, I hope?’
‘Oh yes. My uncle has shown great kindness in letting us stay.’
‘Aye, well. That’s Mr Ambrose for thee. Generous as the day is long, is he,’ Bridget announced with warm feeling, and Laura felt a tug of pity for the Irishwoman. Was she so oblivious to the way he treated her? Or perhaps infatuation was blinding her to his poor behaviour? Was that it? Was Bridget Figg in love? Somehow, Laura doubted that Ambrose’s need for his bedfellow came from the heart.
After pushing a filled cup across, Bridget made to return to her duties, but Laura stopped her: ‘Where might I find employment, Figg?’ she asked. ‘I can’t sit around here all day doing nowt and, besides, I don’t want Father working hisself into the ground providing for us both.’
The maid sat down and rubbed her chin. ‘Well, the cotton factories are your best bet, colleen. Sure, good spinners and reelers and the like are always in demand.’
Though Laura’s stomach dropped a little to hear this – the mills seemed such noisy and dangerous places – she nodded nonetheless. If grafting in such a place was what it would take to keep her beloved father’s health, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
‘I have two nieces who work at Sedgwick Mill just off nearby Jersey Street,’ Bridget continued. ‘It’s one of the better works, so they say. Decent conditions, like, compared to some.’
Laura brightened a little at this. ‘Aye? And d’you reckon they’ll take me on?’
‘Ye can but ask.’
‘I’ll go right now.’ Smiling, Laura drained her cup and rose. ‘Ta, Bridget.’
‘Figg. Sheesh, colleen, you’ll be the death of me, to be sure!’ she lamented theatrically, throwing her hands in the air.
Laura couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Sorry, I just …’
‘Aye, keep forgetting, you’ve said.’ Grinning, Bridget flicked her chin towards the door. ‘Go on, now. You go whilst I get on with my own work, and good luck to thee. Oh, but Manchester’s a mighty big city; you’ll not get lost?’ she added, biting her lip.
Laura assured her she’d be fine. ‘I can allus stop and ask someone the way, should I lose my bearings. Bye for now, B— Figg!’
The maid’s exasperated ‘Saints preserve us!’ followed a chuckling Laura down the hall and out of the door.
She turned immediately left and retraced the way she and Amos had taken to get here the previous day. She recalled they had passed several mills and factories looming over the district like angry red giants – hopefully, one of them had been Sedgwick. Keeping her eyes peeled for mill gates and the premises’ names inscribed thereon, she continued at a brisk pace.
Minutes later, Laura was utterly lost.
Tumbledown lanes snaked like veins in a hand every which way, and she’d followed them blindly, believing they would bring her out at Jersey Street’s thoroughfare. She’d been wrong; the warrens of tightly packed houses all looked the same to the untrained eye. She halted at the end of a street and sighed. Though one or two people passed her by, their grim expressions made her hesitant to ask directions. As in her hometown of Bolton, here the slum dwellers could be a vicious lot. Abject poverty and the desperation that came with it drove a body to dark measures – many had no qualms in robbing and beating any stranger fool enough to wander into their territory alone. Glancing about, she chewed her lip.
‘I ain’t seen thee around here afore. I’d remember a bonny thing like you, aye.’
Whipping around, Laura met a rough-looking man in his middle years. His badly scarred face, proof of pugilistic activity, was hard to read in the poor light that struggled to penetrate through to the cobbled streets. His tone, however, told her all she needed to know. This one was not to be trusted. She took a hesitant step back.
‘What’s your name, love?’
‘I … was just leaving …’ she began, but he sidestepped her and blocked her path.
‘Scarpering so soon, when alls I want is to get to know thee? That’s not reet friendly, is it?’ Face darkening, he seized her elbow.
‘Let me go.’ But her strength was no match against his brawn. ‘I have no brass.’
‘Mebbe. Mind, there’s more that can get a fella going than money.’
Though her heart threatened to smash from her chest, she forced her voice to remain even, sensing instinctively she mustn’t show she was afraid. ‘I mean it – leave go of me.’
‘Bitch.’
Laura opened her mouth to scream but, lightning fast, the man’s arm went around her and he crushed her to him. His mouth found hers in a sickening, thick-tongued kiss whilst his hand tugged roughly at the bodice of her dress.
‘Get off me!’ she managed to scream when his mouth dropped to a now-exposed breast, before his lips clamped over hers once more, smothering her breath. Struggling wildly, she pummelled at his chest, but with little impact, and her panic reached fever pitch. ‘Help! Someone, please!’
‘Ain’t nobody coming to save thee, my lass,’ he told her between pants, slamming her back against a brick wall and tugging up her skirts. ‘So save your breath and stop struggling.’
‘Nay!’ With a shriek, she brought up her knee several times in blind desperation. One attempt managed to find its mark and she cried out in sheer relief as her attacker crumpled to the ground with a groan. Clutching his genitals, he glared up at her, teeth bared, but whatever threat he’d been about to make was missed on Laura – not wasting a second, she skidded around on her heel and pelted away.
How much later she couldn’t say – lungs ablaze, coughing and gasping for breath, she was finally forced to rest. As her energy returned it brought with it simmering rage that had her shaking. How dare he! Who did some men think they were, believing it was fine to treat women exactly as they liked? She was sick to the back teeth of the male species; she was, really. Bar her father, every last one could go and rot, for all she cared!
Looking around through a blur of tears, a flash of black smudged with green lettering caught her attention in the distance. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and stared harder. It was. Oh, thank God … Gaze fixed on the familiar sign, she set off at a run once more.
Before entering her uncle’s yard she took a few minutes to compose herself. Her clothing was dishevelled, long tendrils of blonde hair had escaped their pins and were hanging around her face, and her eyes felt puffy. When her breathing had steadied and she’d tidied herself up the best she could she fixed in place a smile and passed through the gates. Hopefully, Amos hadn’t yet left on his rounds; all she wanted was to see him for just a moment, feel his safe and calming presence, and all would be well again. Please, Father …
‘Lass?’
Laura’s heart dropped as the voice called out her name from the direction of the office. Before turning, she scanned the yard quickly for a glimpse of her father and Kenneth, but there was no sign of either. Swallowing down her disappointment, she made her way across to Ambrose.
‘What brings thee here? Is summat up back home?’
‘Nay. I wanted to see Father.’
‘Oh?’ When she didn’t respond, he held the office door wide. ‘Come in, take a sup.’
Despite everything, his offer warmed her somewhat. ‘I’d not be disturbing thee, Uncle?’
‘Nay, nay.’
She nodded. ‘Aye. All right, then.’
Inside, she checked the pot and poured them each a cup of tea. After a few sips of the hot brew she felt a little better. She smiled across the desk at the older man.
‘All right?’
‘Aye, ta. I’ll just finish this and will be on my way, leave you to your work.’
Shaking his head, Ambrose leaned back in his chair. ‘No need, lass. I’ve allus time to spare for kin. So. What’s got you in such a state?’ He motioned to her tear-streaked face. ‘Summat’s upset thee. Am I right?’
Laura opened her mouth to offer a denial, then her chin drooped to her chest and she sighed. ‘Aye, you are. There was a man. He …’ She looked up at her uncle’s angry murmur and released another long breath. ‘I’m all right, really. I … hit him where it hurts and he let me go.’
‘Where was this? I’ll have the whelp hunted down and horse-whipped!’
‘I don’t know,’ she told him truthfully. ‘I was out looking for work, you see, and became lost. These streets all look the same to me. It was my own fault, really; I shouldn’t have wandered so far. Please, I just want to forget it.’
He released air slowly. His eyes travelled the length of her, settling on her chest; glancing down, she saw her bodice was missing a button from her assailant’s heavy handling. Blushing scarlet, she drew her shawl closer around herself. ‘Really, Uncle,’ she insisted in a whisper, ‘I’m fine.’
After a long moment during which his gaze remained rooted to her generous bust, Ambrose nodded. ‘I think it best we don’t mention this to my brother. He’ll not stop till he finds the divil and would likely kill him when he does. We’ll keep this to ourselfs, aye?’
Laura readily agreed. Amos’s love for her often blinded his judgement; Ambrose was right in what he said. Her father’s rage would be sure to see him do something he’d later regret, and the beast who had assaulted her wasn’t worth a murder charge. ‘Ta, Uncle Ambrose,’ she said with feeling.
He nodded once more then folded his arms. ‘Now, about the matter of thee finding work.’
‘Aye. Figg mentioned that her nieces are employed at Sedgwick Mill. That’s where I was heading when I got lost.’
‘Well, you can put that from your mind, lass. Starting the morrow, you’ll work here for me.’
She blinked in surprise. ‘Here?’
‘You object to it?’
‘Well, nay, but …’ Glancing through the window to the busy yard and the thick-muscled men hard at toil, she bit her lip. ‘You really think I’ll measure up, Uncle Ambrose? I’m stronger than I look, it’s true, but those sacks look awful heavy … What?’ she asked when Ambrose threw back his head and laughed heartily. ‘What did I say?’
‘Not out on t’ yard floor, you daft bugger, yer,’ he spluttered on a guffaw. ‘Nay. You’ll work alongside me in t’ office, here.’
‘Oh.’ She grinned sheepishly. ‘That makes more sense.’
‘It’s a ruddy mess, and that’s the truth.’
Taking stock of the space, she nodded agreement. ‘I’ll be tidying and such, like?’
‘That’s right. And keeping my papers in order – just by date will do if you’re not too sharp with the reading – and making brews, that sort of thing. Well, what d’you reckon?’
‘I reckon it sounds gradely, aye.’ And she meant it. So long as he didn’t think to treat her as he did his other staff, that was. She’d give him no cause to complain, of course, and in return hoped he’d show her the same level of courtesy. ‘Eeh, ta, Uncle. I’m that grateful.’
‘That’s settled, then. Now, you get going home.’
‘Aye, all right.’
‘And lass?’
Laura paused by the door. ‘Aye?’
Rising from his seat and closing the space between them, Ambrose fixed his eyes once more on her chest. Then he reached out and prodded between the cleft of her breasts – she squirmed beneath his touch, though he didn’t seem to notice. His voice was low and thick. ‘Get Figg to repair yon button afore your father notices. Remember, not a word to him about today’s antics.’
‘Aye, yes, I … I will.’ Gripping the shawl tightly against herself, she backed off through the door. ‘I’ll be going now. Goodbye.’
Throughout the short journey home her mind was a jumble of thoughts. That she’d gained a position she was, for her father’s sake, happy about. And yet …
Her hand travelled to the spot her uncle had fingered; his touch still lingered, as though branded there. Confusion and an odd sense of sickliness washed through her. She frowned. Then her rational side was telling her not to be silly, that she was misreading the situation. He was her uncle, for goodness’ sake … And wanting to believe it, she listened.
Still, she was at a loss as to why the unease coiling her guts remained with her for the rest of the day.
Amos was delighted with the news.
‘She’ll come to no harm under my watch, brother.’
‘Aye, that I know.’ He patted Ambrose on the back. ‘The lass couldn’t be in safer hands.’
Laura offered them a small smile and continued with her breakfast. Her encounter yesterday with the scar-faced varmint in the dark and deserted lane lay heavily on her conscience; keeping secrets from Amos, no matter if it was to protect him, didn’t sit well with her. However, Ambrose had been right: her father would be furious should he learn what had occurred, and that would do his health no good at all. Better that they kept it to themselves.
Her thoughts switched to her conspirator and their meeting in the office and her body gave an involuntary shudder. But again, she told herself she had blown this all out of proportion, that if anything she was the queer one to be harbouring such inappropriate notions. He was her uncle … Today marked the start of a fresh beginning for her. Not only would she be earning, but she’d get to see Amos throughout the day when he dropped in at the yard between rounds. It was the perfect position, really. She must do her utmost to see that it worked out.
‘Right, then. I’ll see youse shortly.’ Ambrose rose from the table with a nod to them both. ‘Don’t you be late, lady,’ he added to Laura, winking to his brother, who chuckled.
‘I’ll not,’ she assured him, waving him on his way. Her smile soon slipped, however, when, immediately her uncle left the house, Amos’s face contorted in a discomfort he’d clearly been hiding from the other man. ‘Father?’ She rushed to his side. ‘What is it?’
Rubbing his chest with a bunched fist, Amos breathed deeply. ‘Nowt, no need to fret. I’ll be reet in a handful of minutes, allus am.’
‘This has happened afore? When? How long has tha been getting this pain?’ He’d appeared fine yesterday upon his return from his first day at his new job. Had that been a mask he’d been wearing, too? ‘Father, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Lass, I’m all right.’
‘But Father—’
‘We’ll speak on this no more, Laura.’ His voice brooked no argument. Taking a last deep breath, he sat up straight and picked up his spoon to resume his meal. ‘You see. I’m fine now, just like I said.’
Fear had her gripped in its jaws and, more than ever, she was thankful for her new job. She’d maintain a better watch, see that he took rests between his rounds. Lord but she loved him, needed to keep him well.
A short time later, as they walked together to the coal yard, she flicked sidelong glances in his direction to check how he fared, but he looked his usual self. Again, when he climbed atop his laden cart and was about to set off, Laura scrutinised Amos’s face – all seemed fine. Breathing a sigh of relief, she watched until he and Kenneth had disappeared through the gates then made her way to the office, her attention now on her own duties.
The morning passed quickly and she found the work pleasant enough. After tidying and sorting into neat piles mounds of ledgers and loose papers she set to organising everything in order of date and filing them away into their relevant drawers. Ambrose, busy directing his workforce in the yard, flitted in to check her progress once or twice only throughout the hours and was happy with the results.
Laura matched his feelings. She knew a sense of accomplishment she wasn’t accustomed to, and she liked it. She’d never had to work as Adam’s wife – he’d have had a blue fit had she suggested the idea, and incurring his wrath was something she’d striven to avoid at all costs. Earning an honest crust all by herself left a warm glow deep within her that she hadn’t expected. She was good at something. She knew now that, if she could help it, she’d never be out of work again.
Having dusted and swept, she made a fresh pot of tea and allowed herself her first sit-down of the day. She was sipping her sweetened brew when the door opened once again and her uncle entered. He took stock of the room and slowly nodded his approval.
‘You’ve done well.’
‘Ta, thanks, Uncle Ambrose.’
‘Any tea going begging?’
Laura went to fetch him a cup. He drained the drink in one then reached for a bundle of papers on his desk.
‘I’m away to a business meeting. You’ll manage right enough whilst I’m gone?’
‘Aye, Uncle Ambrose.’
He nodded, smiled. Then he crossed to her chair and stooped until their faces were level. His eyes, a darker grey than usual, bore into hers. He chucked her under the chin – though if Ambrose meant the action to be friendly or jocular, he was sadly mistaken; Laura squirmed at his touch.
‘I’ve a feeling we’re going to work well together, lass, aye,’ he murmured.
She tried but failed to offer a response, and the smile she attempted to drag to her lips wouldn’t cooperate. Uneasiness had quickened her heartbeat, and the struggle to remain calm, to stop herself from springing from her seat and him, and running from this room, was growing by the second. She couldn’t even pinpoint what exactly was going on in this moment. She just knew instinctively that whatever it was, it wasn’t … natural was the only term she could put to it. And she didn’t like it.
‘Right, then.’ Ambrose straightened and strode to the door. ‘I’d best be away. I shall be gone some hours. See thee later.’
When he’d left she released air she hadn’t realised she was holding. When, moments later, footsteps sounded beyond the door, and believing it to be her uncle returning, having perhaps forgotten something, breath caught in her throat again. However, it wasn’t Ambrose’s towering form that entered the office but the wiry one of the young man Nathan, his employee.
‘Apologies for disturbing thee, miss. Your father …’
‘What is it?’ She was on her feet and hurrying towards him in a heartbeat. ‘He’s unwell?’
‘I reckon so, aye.’
Pushing past him, she sprinted outside and scanned the yard. She spotted Kenneth and the cart by the gates, but Amos was nowhere to be seen. ‘Where is he?’ she asked of Nathan, who had followed her.
He pointed to a makeshift bench a short distance away. ‘I left him there to rest whilst I came to collect thee. He’s insisting nowt ails him, mind.’
Laura rushed to the older man, who sat with bowed head, his hands on his knees, as though struggling to catch his breath. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘Father?’
‘Hello, lass,’ he wheezed out, and his attempt at a smile was more of a grimace. ‘How’s your first … day going … then?’
‘Oh, Father.’ Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Please stop this pretence. Summat’s not right with thee and—’
‘I’m fine.’
‘But you ain’t! I’m sending for t’ doctor—’
‘Nay.’ Amos’s head sprang up. His eyes were steely. ‘That’s an order, my lass. As for thee,’ he added to Nathan coldly, ‘you see what you’ve gone and caused? I told yer I was all right, told yer not to go running to the girl here, upsetting her.’
‘I’m glad he did,’ Laura cut in. ‘For God’s sake, Father, you’re not well. You need to rest—’
‘It’s back to work I need to be.’
She could only watch in horror-filled astonishment as her father rose and headed to his cart, on to which men were piling fresh sacks of coal in preparation for his next round. ‘I don’t believe … Why won’t he listen?’
‘He’s proud, miss. But he ain’t doing hisself no favours.’
Her tears spilling, she turned desperate eyes to the young man. ‘What d’you think it is, Nathan? What’s ailing him?’
He hesitated at her distress, then: ‘It’s his heart, I reckon. It’s what drew my attention when he arrived back here; he were clutching his chest, looked in mortal pain.’
Gulping back a sob, she returned her gaze to Amos. Still, a deathly pallor touched his features, and anger rose up in her. She straightened her shoulders. ‘Right. There’s nowt else for it.’
‘What will tha do, miss?’ asked Nathan, hurrying after her as she strode off towards her father.
‘Summat that’ll make him see sense, God willing. And please, call me Laura.’
‘Now, lass, I’ve told thee—’ began Amos when she reached him, but her nod and sweet smile stopped him in his tracks. He blinked in surprised relief that another pestering, as he clearly saw it, was to be avoided. ‘Right, then. Good. I’ll see thee later.’
‘Wait a minute, please, Father.’
Pausing in his task of climbing aboard the cart, Amos turned back with a frown. He was still wearing it when, after hurrying to the office, Laura returned waving an old flat cap she’d spotted in a cupboard earlier during her cleaning. She put it on, tucked her hair beneath it and nodded again. Then she pulled herself up into the space beside her father’s seat.
Amos was aghast. ‘What are you doing?’
‘There’s work to be done, Father. You said so yourself.’
‘Aye, but—!’
‘And you’re right: the coal won’t deliver itself, will it?’
‘Well, nay, but—!’
‘Are we all loaded?’ Laura asked Nathan, standing in stunned silence, watching the scene unfold. At his confirmation, she lifted her chin. ‘Right. Come along, then, Father.’
‘Laura, what in the world … Have you taken leave of your senses entirely, girl?’
‘Nay, Father, you have. That’s why I’m being forced to take this action.’ Her tone brought Amos’s mouth open in shock. Not once in her life had she spoken as harshly to him, had never so much as raised her voice. Her desperation – and steadfastness – was clear. ‘You’re driving your health into the ground, and I can’t sit back and be witness to it any longer. If you’re determined to continue toiling like this, then I’m going to help.’
‘Help? Thee?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Now, Laura, you’ve gone too far here. I’ll not—’
‘Father.’ She laid a hand on his shoulder and, leaning in close, spoke softly now, soothingly, sensing his mounting humiliation. ‘I love thee; oh, more than I can put into words. Please. Let me do this for thee. Let me ease your burden in whatever way I can. Just till you’re stronger, eh? No one need know. We’ll be discreet, and Uncle Ambrose will be none the wiser. Please.’
‘Lass …’
‘I’ll not take nay for an answer,’ she said, her firmness returning before he could pooh-pooh the suggestion further. Glancing down to Nathan, she added, ‘My uncle ain’t due back forra while yet; me and Father should be back afore he is. Mind, if Uncle Ambrose should return and find I’m not here … tell him … tell him I weren’t feeling too good and took myself off home. Will tha do that for me, Nathan? Please?’
‘’Course, aye. Fret none; Mr Todd is allus gone from t’ yard forra few hours each day.’ He looked over the sacks on the cart then nodded. ‘You’re all set.’
She passed the reins to Amos, who accepted them with a defeated sigh. His pride was taking a painful battering, she knew, but it was for his own good. Hopefully, he’d see that in the long run. She must do this.
As the shire made his steady way from the yard and into the street, Laura pulled her oversized cap lower, obscuring her face. Folk could be funny about the fairer sex involving themselves in heavy trades, were inclined to be untrusting of their capabilities, not take them seriously. Unless it was out of public sight, of course; that was another matter. It was perfectly acceptable for females to work themselves into early graves behind the closed doors of dangerous mills and factories, or labour hard in the fields alongside husbands on isolated farmsteads.
Women, too, had even contributed greatly towards coal haulage, but in an altogether more unpalatable capacity – in the actual mining of the stuff. In one of the toughest, dirtiest, most perilous jobs there was, they had toiled up to fifteen-hour days, six days a week, until the 1842 passing of the Mines and Collieries Act prohibited this, only a few short decades ago.
It was a typical, and rather ignorant, case of out of sight out of mind, that was for sure. Nevertheless, she and Amos could well do without word getting back to Ambrose. Besides, unwanted attention was the last thing she needed with the Cannock brothers still – she was sure – on the search for her. Manchester this might be, but Bolton town wasn’t so great a distance away. Perhaps they had discovered where she’d gone, were already on her tail, just waiting for the right time to strike …
Quickly, she forced the thoughts away before terror consumed her and concentrated on the task in hand.