Chapter 2

Mary stood on the flagged floor of the small two-up, two-down and looked around her. Toby was right, Riley’s Court was squalid. It was a long way from the house that they had been living in down by the wharf but at least, in this one, they would not be living under the same roof as Robert Jones. She looked out of the dust-covered windows where spiders had made their home and sighed. It was a big step for her to take, but it had to be done.

She watched as the yard outside was suddenly filled with black and grey smoke that wisped down from the steam engine that she could hear trundling down the track behind the small terraced houses that had been narrowly saved from demolition when the now-busy railway had been built. She would have to secure a job at Whitelock’s if she was to pay the rent that she had signed for and not be evicted within the first few weeks of her tenancy. She breathed in the coal-filled fumes of the steam engine and watched as smuts floated down behind the owner of her new home. Old George Summerfield, the landlord, put the sixpence into his worn leather purse and passed her the key to number two Riley’s Court; his mittened hands were as filthy as his craggy, dirty face and he grinned as she looked at him with doubt in her eyes.

‘It’s a grand little place and you’ll soon make it home. I should have charged you more, but I’m not a greedy man, I just need enough to make myself comfortable in my old age.’ He smiled again, showing his rotten teeth, and pulled his old ragged coat around him. He was dressed like a scarecrow but everyone knew he was richer by far than his appearance would have people believe.

‘I suppose I will; a fire in the hearth and some curtains up in the window will make all the difference.’ Mary looked at the old man and watched as he grinned before looking around him for a sign of his other tenants in the small square that he owned.

‘Bloody old Tess is not to be seen and she owes me last month’s rent so I’ll away and knock on her door; she’d better not think she can live for nothing in these most precious properties. I can soon find somebody else to fill them, so I can do without her sort. I’ll be wasting my time, though, for she’ll not answer and I’ll have to send one of my boys round and demand it from her, as usual.’ George shook his head. ‘She’s an old bugger; she knows she can’t get away with it but she has to be threatened with eviction nearly every month before I get any brass out of her.’ He turned and looked at Mary. ‘Don’t you be taking lessons from her, for I’ll not be as sympathetic with a lass your age – it’s only because she’s on her last legs that I put up with her.’

‘I won’t. You’ll have no problem getting your rent from me and my brother, Mr Summerfield; we’ll make sure we pay on time.’ Mary watched him walk across the cobbled yard and knock on the door of the neighbour she knew to be in. As when she had looked at her new home, the off-white lace curtains had moved as Tess had watched for George Summerfield. Now Mary turned her back on him and smiled as she heard him swearing and shouting threats at his absent tenant before shuffling out of the yard. She couldn’t help but admire the old woman who made her landlord wait for his rent – if her cottage was like Mary’s it was really only worth half the sum he was charging, but just like her, beggars could not be choosers, and as long as it was dry and clean, that was all that mattered, she thought, trying to convince herself as she stood in the one room that served as both kitchen and living space and looked around her.

The kitchen hearth needed blackleading and the stone-flagged floor needed a good scrub and then there were the two bedrooms upstairs to tackle; both really needed a coating of limewash to freshen and clean them before they were lived in. She couldn’t help but think that Toby would be disappointed with his new home, but for now, it was all they could afford and he’d have to appreciate that. Mary climbed the uncarpeted stairs to the two bedrooms and looked out of the front bedroom window. She smiled as she watched the door of Tess’s cottage open and the old woman come out and check that her landlord had gone, keeping her front door open for the late summer’s light to fill her rooms. She picked up her cat that was wanting her attention and trundled back into her home.

In the back of Mary’s mind were memories of living in a similar yard, with her long-deceased mother; they’d had no money, but what they did have was love for one another. She could just remember her mother’s soft features, remember, too, the minute that Nell had pulled her away from her dead mother’s side to her new life with Toby and Robert Jones. How her heart had ached – and now she felt the same as she had then, vulnerable and lost, but she knew, as she wiped a tear away, that she had to make her own life and feeling sorry for herself would do no good. She sniffed and breathed in hard and looked at the key in her hand. It was time to put the next part of her plan into action; there was no time for sorrow if she was to make the best of her life – and standing there blubbing didn’t pay the bills, so she would have to just get on with it and figure out when was the best time to move into her new home – hopefully, without confrontation from Robert Jones. But first, it was a walk into the centre of Leeds to persuade the manager of Whitelock’s that she needed a full-time job …

As she set off, Mary wished yet again that she had been blessed with her mother’s voice, for she would have loved to appear at the music hall as her mother had. But before her music hall success, Eve Reynolds had worked as a barmaid and Mary was going to pay no heed to Nell’s warning words when she was alive about the men who would take advantage of her and the long hours on her feet. It was her life now so she would do what was needed to get by – and the refurbished Whitelock’s was going to be just the place to learn the trade. She walked up through the busy market street of Briggate, chin fixed firmly and her head set on the job in hand. She was in her best dress and her green hat with its jaunty feathers was perched on her thick dark hair at an angle, but still she felt her heart beat fast as she stood at the entrance of the ginnel leading down to Whitelock’s Ale House, where two workmen balanced a new sign for the well-established public inn.

So, it was changing its name as well as its appearance, Mary thought, as she saw a modern scripted sign bearing the name Whitelock’s Luncheon Bar on it. The sign was just the beginning, she discovered, as she entered into the low-set room. The old bar that she had seen from gazing through the windows in the past had been replaced with a smooth cream and brown marble counter that was decorated on its side with flowered tiles in green, cream and brown, interspersed with brown columns, and behind the bar was row upon row of bottles of spirits that shone and beckoned the drinker, while huge etched-glass mirrors reflected the clientele. The only thing remaining from the alehouse that had once served Turk’s Head Yard until the Whitelock family had taken it over was a solitary window with the old Turk’s Head engraved on the glass panes on it.

Mary gasped as she looked around her; this was going to be one of the poshest eating and drinking places that there had ever been in Leeds and she only hoped that she would be lucky enough to convince the owner, John Whitelock, to take her on as a member of staff. Beer was now the working man’s preferred drink because it was by far the cheaper way to get drunk and forget your sorrows than gin and whisky and he’d need plenty of staff to keep his empire running. Combined with serving food, the new Whitelock’s was going to be no ordinary public house, she thought, as she noted the elegant chairs and polished tables for people to dine at. The place was immaculate.

‘What do you think? It’s cost the family a pretty penny, but I think it’s worth it.’ John Whitelock stood back and admired the latest designs that made his bar look the height of fashion and desirability.

‘I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s magnificent.’ Mary looked around, awestruck.

‘It’s cost a pretty bob or two and my family thinks I’m partly mad, but I’ve told them that we will make our money back if I have my way.’ He grinned and then looked serious, hoping that he’d be proved right. ‘Now, what brings you here? Are you still after employment with me? I’m not the best of bosses but everyone says I’m fair and, as you can see, we expect to be serving quite a few folk when those doors are properly opened. It’ll not just be anybody that I let in, though.’ He looked the lass up and down; he’d spoken to her on many occasions when she visited the market in Briggate and knew her to be the adopted daughter of Robert Jones, the respected, if disliked, police inspector. If she worked for Whitelock’s, John would have the law in his back pocket and she was certainly bonny enough to be seen behind his bar. Besides, he needed lasses like her if he was to expand his plans even more. This would be a luncheon club for the well-to-do, if he had his way, not a beer-swilling den of iniquity and he wanted his staff to reflect that.

‘I would like to, if you would have me, sir? We have just buried my foster mother and I have decided that I need to seek permanent employment and become independent. I’ve walked here from a cottage that I’ve rented in Riley’s Court because I no longer want my foster father to feel that he is obliged to look after my well-being. After all, he is no blood relation of mine.’ Mary spoke openly, not realising that she was being considered because of her relationship with Robert Jones.

‘Oh, I see … But you’ll still be regarded as his family, I presume?’ John quizzed her.

‘I don’t know, sir, I would hope so.’ Mary smiled, shrewdly realising that John Whitelock would like to count Robert Jones as a friend rather than an enemy, like any alehouse owner in the growing town of Leeds.

‘Then, I’ll find you a place in my establishment. We’ll discuss your position and wages when you start with me on Monday. I have to see to the drayman shortly and I’ve got a delivery of glasses from the Yorkshire Glass company scheduled, so you’ll have to excuse me – I haven’t the time today to see to a slip of a lass. Come back on Monday at seven o’clock in the morning and I’ll put you about your job.’

He turned away from Mary; perhaps he should not have taken her on if she had fallen out of favour with Robert Jones, but there was something about her … she had a spark to her as well as the looks, so she’d be all right serving his customers behind the bar or, if she wasn’t up to that, she could always be replaced.

Mary couldn’t help but smile as she left Whitelock’s; she’d got a job, a new home and she was about to break free of Robert Jones and, with Toby, make her own way in the world. The next thing that they would have to do would be confront Robert and tell him that they were leaving him and their home along the wharf. Would he be angry or would he be glad to see the back of them? He’d be losing his house-maid and cleaner but that’s all, and Toby and he had not been seeing eye-to-eye for a long time, both jostling for position in the three-bedroomed house that they called home and in which both she and Toby had felt like unwelcome guests of late. She would be glad to leave, no matter that the small cottage in Riley’s Court was little more than a hovel; she’d soon have it looking homely – and it would be wonderful to work in the newly refurbished Whitelock’s, meeting and serving the drinkers there. Life was grand and she would embrace what it threw at her, be it good or bad.

‘Bloody hell, Mary, you haven’t wasted any time! A new home and a fresh job – now all we’ve got to do is tell our so-called father.’ Toby leant back next to the stoneware sink in the kitchen where he had just washed his face and hands before sitting down to eat the evening meal which Mary had prepared for them, plating one up for later for the absent Robert Jones. The smell of carbolic soap surrounded Toby, eradicating the smell of horses that always accompanied him, as Mary put his supper on the table.

‘Well, I told you what I was about last night. Now I’ve gone and done it. So, are you coming with me or are you staying here? Because, knowing you, you’ll have changed your mind in the cold light of day and I’ll have rented a house that I can’t afford on my own.’ Mary sat next to Toby and looked at him, waiting for a reply.

‘I’m coming with you. You’re not leaving me here on my own. Now, when are we flitting, that’s the question, and do we tell the old bastard or not?’ Toby picked up his knife and fork and started to eat his mutton stew.

‘I was thinking of leaving on Saturday, seeing you were so against leaving tomorrow. So we will have to tell your father. Besides, there are one or two things that I want to take with me. I know I came with nothing, but over the years, since leaving school, I’ve worked as you know sewing and mending for the more respectable ladies of Leeds. I’ve bought one or two bits for the house, as you have. We could do with taking our own mattresses and there isn’t much furniture in the cottage at Riley Court – a table and two chairs is all.’

Toby looked serious.

‘So we’re leaving a perfectly good home for a place that has nothing? Do you think we’re doing right? I know you don’t trust my father, but he has given you a home for over twenty years. And I’m not like you, I can put up with him despite the odd gruff word.’ Toby looked around him; he was comfortable in his home although he knew it was only a matter of time before another woman would come on the scene, perhaps with her own children, and that would be when he’d be thrown out of the family nest.

‘You just don’t want to confront him, Toby! Well, I’ll tell him when he comes in, and at least if he throws us out tonight, we have somewhere to go, even if we have no beds.’ Mary held her thoughts back as she looked at her foster brother; sometimes Toby was weak and she knew he was intimidated by his father’s position and reputation in Leeds. But ordinary people didn’t really know Robert Jones – and if they knew his love of women and betting, they wouldn’t hold him in such high esteem. She looked up through the kitchen window and saw the man they were speaking of coming down the path and quickly put her finger to her lips. ‘Say nothing until he’s had his supper, I’ll pick my moment,’ Mary whispered as the front door opened and Robert entered the hallway before putting his head around the kitchen doorway.

‘I see you two are eating me out of house and home. I just hope that you’ve left plenty for me after the day that I’ve had.’ Robert hung his long coat up on the coat stand at the bottom of the stairs and balanced his bowler hat on the hat peg before entering the kitchen and sitting across the other side of the table from Toby. ‘I’ve been busy all day, trying to get to the bottom of a fella being stabbed by another in the Globe Yard. Oh, it’s a sordid spot! It wants knocking down and the Globe Inn with it, both only attract the worst of society.’ He sighed and looked across at Mary. ‘Well, get my supper, lass, I’m waiting!’

Mary got up, leaving her own supper partly eaten, and went to the side oven to get his. ‘Mind, the plate is hot and I’ve put you some cabbage and potatoes on because I didn’t know how long you were going to be.’ Mary watched as Robert scowled at his plate.

‘You should know by now I don’t eat cabbage. You’re not anywhere as good as my first wife at cooking – she knew how to look after me.’ Despite complaining, Robert set about the supper with a will and, although he had moaned about the well-boiled cabbage, he ate that too before sitting back in his chair and commenting about the silence around the table when all had eaten their fill. ‘You’re both quiet tonight. You always had plenty to say when Nell was alive.’

‘Nowt to talk about for nowt’s happened; I’ve been at work in the stables all day and I don’t know what our Mary’s been up to,’ Toby quickly replied and then glanced at Mary, who said nothing but cleared the places off the table.

‘Aye, well, happen you’ll talk more tomorrow night for I’m going to be gone this weekend. Me and some of the lads are going to the York Races. We’re getting tickets for the new stand they erected a couple of years ago and we’ll have a flutter on a horse or two, so you’ll be shot of me for a day or two.’ Robert sat back and glanced at them, trying to catch the mood.

‘That’ll be good for you. It’s a good job I’ve ironed all your shirts and starched your collars this morning. Do you want me to pack them for you?’ Mary looked across at him and said nothing more.

‘Aye, you can do that and then I’m away to my bed. We are catching the six o’clock train from the station in the morning – there’s nothing like getting an early start and a few whiskies down your neck before the racing starts. They’ll be better than the old nags that you look after, lad; these are thoroughbreds, not old clapped-out hacks.’ Robert slapped Toby’s back as he got up from the table and sat next to the kitchen fire.

‘I’ll go and see to your packing, and then I’ll come down and wash the pots up.’ Mary glanced at Toby as she left the table and knew that he wouldn’t dare tell Robert that they were about to leave the unhappy home.

‘Aye, I’ll be up there myself in a minute and put what I think I may want in my case. I’ll take that small leather one with my initials on it, which will do just the job.’ Robert watched as Mary left them and went up the stairs.

Mary made her way up the stairs to what had been Nell’s and Robert’s bedroom. She glanced at the picture of Nell on the dressing table and smiled sadly. She missed her and this was no longer a home without her there. She reached up to the top of the wardrobe and lifted down the small tan-coloured case, with the initials R. B. J. etched into it, and then picked up the matching leather case filled with shirt collars from the dressing table along with a collection of shirt collar studs, which Robert would need to look respectable. She then walked to the window and reached for the shirts that hung there on the curtain rail and were airing on coat hangers in the warmth of the spring sunlight.

‘They’d better be ironed well and fold them right an’ all. I don’t want any creases,’ Robert said as he walked into the bedroom and stood close to her, looking her up and down. ‘When I get back from York, me you are going to have to sit down and talk and come to an understanding, now that Nell has left us.’ He sniggered.

Mary looked at him and felt her stomach churn; she knew damn well what he meant and she was not about to be a party to it.

‘Nell stayed with me because she liked her life here but there were certain things I expected her to do for me. After all, I rescued her from a life of hell and it was only right that she did what she did for me. Your mother was nearly in the same situation, so you should know what I’m asking of you. It’s only right that you see to my other needs.’ Robert moved closer and ran his hand down Mary’s cheek.

‘You can think again! I’ll iron, clean and cook for you but I’ll not be yours to bed,’ Mary said as she threw the ironed shirts onto the bed alongside the suitcase, not caring whether they were creased or not as she quickly stepped aside from the leering Robert as he tried to grab her arm.

‘You’ll see sense once you realise that nobody cares a jot about you. You little fool, I’ll bed you when I want, or else out on the streets you go, along with that surly son of mine!’ He yelled at her as she made for the bedroom door.

‘Pack your case yourself and don’t you ever touch me again, else I’ll tell everyone in that precious force of yours just what a bastard you are!’ Mary stood in the doorway and glared at him.

‘And you think that they would believe the daughter of a harlot who was nothing more than a gin soak over my word? You’ll come around to my ways else it will be the worse for you, my girl!’ Robert yelled as Mary slammed his bedroom door behind her and went downstairs to Toby, who looked worried at the shouting.

‘Tomorrow, when he’s at York, we take what is ours and we leave. And I hope the devil takes his soul!’ Mary said as she stood, full of anger, in the kitchen that had once been a warming home for her, but no longer. How dare he speak about her mother like that? She might have sung on the stage but she had never worked the streets; and as for Nell, she had been kindness itself, albeit a prostitute before she came to live with Robert.

Mary didn’t even bother getting out of bed or putting breakfast in front of Robert Jones and heard him shout ‘Lazy bastards!’ as a parting comment before the back door slammed and he went to catch his train for the hard day of drinking and betting that he was to enjoy at York racecourse. She turned over and looked at the bedroom wall. She’d lived in this house for almost as long as she could remember but had never felt as if she truly belonged. Nell had done her best in trying to mother her, but she had only been a substitute for real maternal love. It really was time to leave with her own home and new place of work.

‘Are you awake, Mary?’ Toby knocked gently on her bedroom door and listened for a reply.

‘Aye, I’m awake. Give me five minutes and I’ll be up and dressed and make breakfast and then let’s be out of this place,’ Mary replied in a quiet voice. It was a big step for Toby to take and she knew his stomach would be churning, just like hers, at the thought of Robert coming home to find the note they planned to leave him and some of the contents of the house missing.

‘I’ll go and saddle Buster and get him ready to pull the cart while you see to breakfast. Don’t make a lot, I don’t feel like eating this morning. I’m frightened that my father will come back just as we’re moving out and catch us. He’ll probably be glad to see the back of us, but he’ll still kick up a fuss.’ Toby leaned on Mary’s closed bedroom door and heard her bed springs move as she got out of bed and dressed and washed in the cold water from the jug and bowl on her washstand.

‘All right, I’ll be down in a minute.’ Mary dried her face and stood for a second, thinking that she’d not have the luxury of her comfortable bedroom and the security that living with Robert Jones brought. Likewise, she wouldn’t have the worry of his now lecherous ways towards her. It was definitely time to leave, she thought as she watched Toby bring the well-ridden Buster out into the yard and start to put him into his harness. She looked around at her unmade bed and quickly bundled her bedding into a pile and placed it on the bedroom floor; she was tempted to take her brass bed with her as well but thought better of it. They mustn’t take too much – but Robert could afford to have one or two household pieces go missing and she’d leave him a note and offer to pay for them once she and Toby had got settled and she was earning better money. She was just thankful that she would not be here when he came back from his weekend at York Races because his mood would depend on whether he had won or lost money and how much he and his cronies had drunk. Yes, time to go and make her own way in the world and try and forget her past, the past that Robert reminded her of on a daily basis.

‘Lord, Mary, you can’t take any more, else he’ll have us put in the nick!’ Toby looked at the cart loaded with bedding, pots, and clothes.

With her hands on her hips, Mary looked at the precariously balanced load and scowled at Toby. ‘Most of it’s mine or yours and we need the mattresses unless you want to sleep on the springs of the iron bedstead tonight. Besides, I’m leaving him this note. And although I’ve not told him where we’re going, I’ve said in my note that we’ll pay for the stuff that isn’t ours once we’re settled.’ Mary looked at the hand-written note and folded it, stepping back into the kitchen and leaving it on the table for Robert to find on his return. She then pulled the back door behind her and locked it, putting the key through the letterbox before turning to look at Toby. ‘There, that’s that done; once you’ve returned Buster and the cart we’ll have washed our hands of your father.’

‘You know, I owe him a lot, perhaps we shouldn’t leave him like this …’ Toby took Buster’s reins off and watched as Mary climbed up onto the cart.

‘Toby, he takes every penny you earn and he expects me to be his skivvy and now his whore if he gets his way. Neither of us owes him anything, he’s been paid and more besides for our upbringing and he’s never shown either of us much love. If it hadn’t been for Nell our lives would have been completely miserable. Now, come on and get up here; let’s get this load moved and then you can return the horse and cart before nightfall.’

Toby climbed up beside her and cracked the reins over Buster’s haunches and the horse pulled the cart out of the cobbled backyard with a sharp jerk, making Mary worry that the pile behind her might fall off as they trundled along the busy streets of Leeds to their new home at Riley’s Court. Once there, Toby looked up at the railway viaduct that spanned the yard and shook his head. ‘Lord, Mary, what have you brought us to?’

‘It’ll be fine, Toby, it’s our home now. A proper home where we will be there for one another and not feel beholden to anyone,’ Mary said and hoped that she was right.

‘It’s a shithole – but I suppose it’s our shithole. We’ll make do, won’t we?’ Toby said and sighed.

‘Of course we will – together, as usual, we’ll take on the world,’ Mary said with defiance as she climbed down from the cart and prayed that she had the strength to prove that she was right.

Robert Jones alighted from the train with his latest conquest, picked up from his weekend at York Races, on his arm. She was funny and entertaining, dressed immaculately, and she hung on his every word as he left his police colleagues behind on the station platform. All of them were jealous of the man who was well past his prime but had managed to pick up such a charming woman. He walked with a smile on his face but inside he was worried that once she realised that he had a ready-made family she would no longer be interested in the man who had wined and dined her all weekend. His heart sank as he walked down by the wharf and then on to his well-built house, hoping upon hope that Mary and Toby would keep their mouths closed when he introduced the exotic Dulcie.

He tried the door but, unusually, found it locked and fumbled in his back pocket to find the key as he smiled at his replacement for Nell. Turning the key, he walked into his usually warm and welcoming kitchen, but now the fire was not lit, nor were the gas lamps, and there was no smell of food being prepared. He turned and smiled at Dulcie and asked her to take a seat while he lit the fire and turned the gas lights on as the daylight dimmed and night encroached on the house on the canal bank. He scowled as he realised that the previous day’s ashes had not been cleared from the grate and that there was no sign of either Mary or Toby.

‘You keep your house lovely and tidy, honey.’ Dulcie crossed her legs and looked around the immaculate kitchen with its well-stocked shelves and the Welsh dresser with its blue and white pottery that stood against the longest wall of the kitchen. She sat back and watched as Robert stood back from the fire and watched as the flames started to leap and catch hold of the coal and kindling sticks which he had hurriedly laid. ‘You must have had a good maid because everything is immaculate.’

‘Yes, yes, I do, and she should have been here to see to the house on my return,’ Robert replied quickly and smiled.

‘There’s a note here, darling, on the table; perhaps she’s left it for you to explain why she’s not here.’ Dulcie fingered the note and was tempted to read it but Robert quickly took it out of her hands.

‘It is from my maid, Mary – she says that her mother has been taken ill and she’s had to go and nurse her. Bugger!’ Robert screwed Mary’s note up and threw it on the fire. So, she and Toby had deserted him, the ungrateful buggers. After all the money he had spent on raising them, they had shown their true colours and had left him and taken some of his possessions by the sound of it.

‘Are you all right, my love? You look worried.’ Dulcie rose from her seat and ran her hand around the back of Robert’s shoulders, then whispered, ‘Never mind; that means we are alone, with time to ourselves, and there is so much I know that we can do to pass the time …’ She kissed his neck and smiled.

Robert responded by grabbing her around the waist and kissing her passionately. What did it matter that the two ingrates had left him? They’d only have been in his way now that he’d got a new plaything. He was well rid, he thought, as he hastily unbuttoned his trousers and sought to satisfy his new love.

‘There, I told you we’d soon have it looking like a home.’ Mary stood with a well-worn brush in her hand and looked around the small living space that was to serve as their kitchen and living room. ‘I’ll polish the flagstones tomorrow with some lavender polish once I return from my first day at Whitelock’s. However, for now, I’m done in! I’m going to have to put my feet up just for a few minutes.’

‘Here, I’ll take the kettle and fill it up at the pump and make us a brew. I’m ready for a sit-down and all. It’s been a hard Sunday, Mary. We don’t usually do a lot on the Sabbath except enjoy the day and I’m going to be jiggered tomorrow at work.’ Toby picked the kettle up but then coughed and spluttered, trying to catch his breath.

‘That cough of yours is getting worse, Toby. Go and get something for it at the apothecaries tomorrow.’ Mary frowned with concern, noticing how pale he looked.

‘It’s the dust from the hay that I feed the horses. It gets stuck on my lungs – it’s nothing, really,’ he said to Mary, making light of things.

‘Now then, lad, have you two just moved in?’ Tess Butterfield looked at the dark-haired lad who was filling his kettle from the communal water pump in Riley’s Court and decided she needed to know a bit about the couple that were to be her new neighbours.

‘Aye, which we have. It’s been a fair weekend, moving everything and cleaning the place, like, but Mary’s nearly got it all spick and span.’ Toby stood with the filled kettle in his hand and looked at the old woman.

‘Husband and wife, are you? Although I’ve not seen any children. Maybe some are on the way, eh?’ Tess quizzed.

‘No, no, no, we’re not wed.’ Toby shook his head.

‘Living over the brush then, are you?’ Tess grinned and showed her rotten teeth.

‘No, it’s not like that, we’re sort of brother and sister,’ Toby protested.

‘Well, you’re either brother or sister or not, there’s no sort of about it.’ Tess grinned again.

‘You could say we are stepbrother and sister, but there’s nowt going on between us.’ Toby was getting annoyed with the nosy old woman.

‘Aye, and I’ve heard that one before and all. Whatever you are, it doesn’t matter; you’re part of the court now. We’ve all to get on, no matter what.’ She looked hard at Toby. ‘I’m Tess Butterfield and I’ve been widowed for over ten years now. My old man drowned in the cut after having one too many, the selfish bugger, and now I’m dependent on my own ways and means.’

‘I’m Toby Jones and my sister is Mary. I work for the livery stable on Swan Street and Mary is to start her new job at Whitelock’s Luncheon Bar tomorrow. We are here because my stepmother died recently and we decided not to live with my father after her death.’ Toby started to walk away, trying to avoid any further interrogation from the old woman.

‘Aye, your sister told me all of that. I was just checking, like! A bad lot was he, your father? You’re best on your own if he was like that. You’ll be all right now; we all look after one another here.’ Tess turned and started to walk back to her home; she’d found out what she needed so now she could go and rest her eyes and have a sleep for an hour or two.

‘No, my father wasn’t that bad, but we just didn’t see eye to eye,’ Toby said as she walked away.

‘He’d only be doing what he thought was right for you. You young’uns never appreciate the love and time that your parents give you. Anyway, you’re here now and I hope that you are happy, both you and your sister.’ Tess closed the door behind her.

‘I’ve met Tess; she’s not frightened to say what she thinks, is she?’ Toby placed the kettle on the hook above the fire and waited for it to boil.

‘No, she certainly says what she thinks, does that one. I bet she quizzed you as to how we’re related – I had a feeling that she didn’t believe me when I told her.’ Mary grinned.

‘Aye, and she told me that my father would only be doing right by us when I told her we didn’t get on with him. Little does she know what it was like to live with him!’ Toby sighed.

‘That’s it, she doesn’t know, so stop fretting; he can soon find us if he wants us back. After all, he knows Leeds like the back of his hand. Now, I’ve made your bate box up for work tomorrow and there’s cheese and bread for our supper. Tomorrow, on my way to Whitelock’s, I’ll stop by the market and fill these empty kitchen shelves so it will soon feel like home.’ Mary stood with her hands on her hips and smiled. ‘Cheer up, Toby, I’ll have a game of rummy with you if you want before we go to bed.’

‘No, I’ll have my supper and then I might go for a walk out. I need to clear my head before I settle down for the night.’ Toby hoped that Mary would not want to join him and he said nothing more as a plate of bread and cheese was placed in front of him and the tea brewed.

‘I’ll start to shorten these curtains I pinched out of the drawer back home; they’ll do just the job for in here with an inch or two taken off them. It might take me a night or two but when they’re up, that will stop old nosy Tess looking in of an evening. Not that there will anything interesting to look at in this house.’ Mary folded the rich green curtains on the table and looked across at Toby. ‘Are you all right, Toby? You do want to live here? It’s different for me, Robert isn’t my father but I know somewhere deep down you love him – you’ve got to, he’s your father.’

‘No, I’m all right. It just feels strange and I keep thinking about our mothers; we never really got to know them, either of us, yet they loved us so much.’ Toby hung his head.

‘Aye, and so did Nell, but they’re all gone now. Time to put the past behind us and look to the future.’ Mary held out her hand and gripped Toby’s firmly. ‘We’ll be fine, Toby.’

He lifted his head up and smiled; they probably would be, but he needed to make things right with his father first and that’s where he was about to go on his walk later.

Toby went through the garden gate at the house that used to be his home. He tried the front door and found it bolted but he knew his father was at home because the oil lamps were lit in every window and smoke was rising from the chimney. He knocked hard and shouted, ‘Anybody at home?’ His stomach churned as he heard the sound of footsteps coming to the door and the bolt being pulled back. He’d rehearsed what he was going to say a hundred times on his way back to his old home but now he found himself standing like a mute when the door was opened.

‘Yes, what do you want?’ Dulcie, in all her finery, stood and looked him up and down, waiting for a reply.

‘I-I want to see my father. I’m Toby and I’d like to come in, please.’ Toby felt awkward, standing on the steps of his own home, cap in hand and asking permission to see his father. He heard Robert shout through from the kitchen, ‘Who is it?’

‘He says he’s your son and that he wants to see you,’ Dulcie yelled back.

‘Tell the bastard I have no son and not to bother knocking on this door again!’ Robert yelled and then came and stood in the hallway, bare-chested and with his braces down around his waist. He glared at Toby and didn’t say anything more.

‘You heard the man.’ Dulcie turned and looked at Toby. ‘Now bugger off and leave us to it – we’re busy.’ She closed the door on Toby’s face and then laughed loudly for him to hear as she ran back into Robert’s arms.

Toby stood motionless on the doorstep and then put his cap back on his head. So that was how it was; he was disowned and Nell had soon been replaced. Mary had been right, it had been time to move out and make their own way in the world.