Geordie and Martha Slater sat in their kitchen when all the kids were in bed and Martha told her husband the story of Primrose.
‘Eeh lass,’ he said as she finished, ‘Ah’d heard summat of it from the lads, ya nah, about you lot carryin’ her over to Annie’s place.’
‘Ar cocker,’ Martha said, ‘news travels fast in this town, as well you know.’
‘So, what’s gonna happen now then?’
‘That’s the question we have to decide on.’ Even Martha, usually so full of ideas, was at a loss.
‘D’ya not think ya should ask the wench herself?’ Wise words from a wise man.
‘You know, I think that might be for the best. You are a clever man sometimes, Geordie Slater,’ Martha gave him a wide grin.
Smiling back, he gave her a kiss before he said, ‘Ah’m away to my bed, pet.’
Watching him go, Martha thought how lucky they all were, even Kath now she was rid of John Sligo! Without looking at her knitting needles clacking away in the silence of her living room, her thoughts returned to Primrose. How long before she could tell them how she felt? How long before they would have an answer regarding Frank Woolley? With a big sigh, Martha put her knitting aside and climbed the stairs to bed.
*
It was the following week when Annie called in to see Kath and Violet, who had ventured out in the freezing cold to visit her mother. The usual tea provided, they sat in the warm kitchen to chat.
‘I think young Primrose might be ready to talk with us,’ Annie said, ‘although she isn’t well enough to get out of bed yet.’
‘Then we’ll come to her,’ Violet said and they set out immediately.
Taking a walk down Hobbins Street, they collected the others and made their way to Annie’s house.
Gathering around Primrose’s bed, Violet smiled at her, ‘How are you feeling, Prim?’
‘Ever so much better thanks to you all and especially to Annie for looking after me.’ Her speech was still a little odd, due to the remaining swelling and one or two broken teeth but at least the bruising was going down.
‘That’s good to hear.’ Violet pressed, ‘Prim, we need to ask you something.’ Nodding carefully, Primrose watched as Violet prepared herself to ask the question. ‘We need to know what you want to do about Frank.’
Primrose tried to sit up, prompting Annie to rush forward and prop more pillows behind the girl who was still far from well.
‘Ladies, you have done so much for me already, I can’t ask any more of you.’
Mary’s sudden anger spilled over when she said vehemently, ‘Stop pervar… perv…’
‘Prevaricating,’ Violet said respectfully.
‘Ar that,’ said Mary, giving her a nod, ‘just tell us what you want doin’, wench!’
Primrose’s tears fell as she sobbed, ‘Look at what he did to me! He did this because I couldn’t have his children… I’m glad I couldn’t! I could never have love for a child gotten from rape!’
Seeing Violet flinch then physically stiffen, Primrose apologised, ‘I’m sorry, Violet…’ Not knowing of Violet’s terrible time with John Sligo, Primrose thought she had offended her friend in some way.
Violet moved to hold the girl’s hand saying, ‘It’s all right, Primrose, just tell us what you want.’
‘Come on, wench,’ Martha encouraged, ‘tell us then you can leave everything to us while you get better.’
‘Well,’ Primrose said, composing herself, ‘he’ll do this again… not to me because I’m not going back there even if it means the workhouse! But if he takes up with another woman… we can’t let that happen, please, don’t let him do it to anyone else… please!’
‘Fair enough,’ Violet said, looking at each woman in turn, ‘you all heard what Primrose said?’ With nods from all that the only solution might possibly be another murder, she continued, ‘Right. Primrose, you get yourself well again, everyone else… meeting tomorrow.’
Sitting up long into the night after Spencer had gone to bed, Violet pondered the situation of Frank Woolley. It was no secret that Primrose had been seen being carried to Annie’s on a door; after all, half the townspeople had witnessed it. It was also no secret about the state she was in. Joshua Gittins had been sniffing around hoping for titbits of information, and surely he wasn’t the only one. Whatever plan the Wednesbury Wives came up with, they had to tread very, very carefully. She shuddered as she realised Frank Woolley would have to meet his maker, ‘accidentally’!
*
Ideas went back and forth across Kath Clancy’s kitchen table the following day regarding Frank Woolley’s ‘accident’.
‘We have to be very careful on this one,’ Violet said, ‘the whole town knows about Primrose!’
‘Ar,’ said Mary.
‘True,’ from Kath.
Joyce, having joined them as it was one of her days off from work, said excitedly, ‘We could burn the ’ouse down… with him in it!’
Giving her a weak smile, trying not to burst her enthusiastic bubble, Violet said, ‘We can’t to do that because Primrose will most likely have to live there after he’s gone.’
With a click of her teeth, Joyce grinned, ‘Oh ar, I forgot about that.’
Joyce could always lighten the mood of their meetings.
‘Another concern is how Primrose will support herself. She could sell the house I suppose but it would make sense to stay there and find work. She’s never had to do a day’s toil, so she has no training in a trade of any sort, and we all know how scarce jobs are in this town,’ Martha put in, ‘and after all it’s the Wives who will have brought Frank to bankruptcy.’
Violet said, ‘Spencer said we could rely on his help if we needed it.’
‘Bless,’ said Mary, ‘but he isn’t going to want to be a hacksessory to murder!’
The ghost of a smile played on Violet’s face at Mary’s mispronunciation, but she was right, Spencer would not want to become an accessory to the disposal of Frank Woolley, not in the sense they planned.
A few moments of silence hung in the kitchen as each remembered once more the feelings of guilt and shame around the Ray Clews debacle. Now here they were again plotting and planning. Nervous glances passed between them, knowing all were feeling the same – they wished there was another way to get rid of Woolley, but there wasn’t. Besides if they didn’t deal with the man once and for all, Primrose was right – he would do this again to some other poor woman.
‘Right then,’ Violet said, using her fingers to rule out ways of ridding Primrose of her abusive husband, ‘canal – out; gin pit – out; fire – out,’ giving Joyce a wry look, ‘so what’s left to us?’
Mary muttered into her teacup, ‘If you ask me, he should bloody well hang himself and save us the bother!’
As Mary looked around at their collective smiles, she realised she’d just provided the answer the Wednesbury Wives sought to the predicament of Frank Woolley.