Friendship's Bond (19 page)

‘Hey, ’old up Leah wench, y’ can’t go a doin’ the like o’ that.’

Ezekial’s exclamation was immediately followed by a chorus of the same.

‘Ezekial be right, Leah, y’ can’t refuse . . .’

‘ ’Er can’t do such . . .’

‘That be naught short o’ wickedness . . .’

Then a woman was on her feet, her voice carrying over the rest.

‘What Ezekial Turley says, what be said by all o’ we, be Leah Marshall don’t ’ave cause to threaten nor do her ’ave the right to deny folk, to refuse the sellin’ of butter an’ cheese; tell her, Mr Thorpe, tell her that don’t be no proper thing to go a doin’.’

‘Ar preacher, you tells her, you tells Leah Marshall her can’t go doin’ what her said, tell her it don’t be proper.’ A second woman championed the plea then dropped away as Leah turned a glance to the man standing in the pulpit.

‘Well!’ Leah met the silence. ‘Don’t you be goin’ to do what be asked, don’t you be goin’ to tell Leah Marshall what be right? After all with you bein’ a paragon of all that be proper who better to do it?’

She had afforded him no courtesy of title, had not addressed him as Mister nor referred to him as a representative of clergy. Beneath the veneer of calm an icy anger swept through Thorpe’s entire body. Those words, ‘a paragon of all that be proper’, were a taunt, a deliberate attempt to draw him into a discussion, in which she doubtless intended to accuse him of abusing Ann Spencer. That was a trap he must avoid yet not to answer when the whole room was turned to him would very well bring its own accusation.

Caught in the crossfire of indecision Thomas Thorpe glared at the woman who was as much a source of fear as she was of irritation.

Chapter 17

Leah Marshall had chosen her moment well. Timing her visit to coincide with the end of Sunday evening service, when every member of the congregation would be in the chapel, was well thought out; the perfect opportunity for her to place the facts of Ann Spencer’s departure from Chapel House before them.

Facts! Facts were something she could not prove, but proved or otherwise, any accusation would be of no advantage to him.

‘Answer ’er, preacher.’

The call of a man anxious for his supper-time ale was followed by another from someone equally eager to be gone.

‘Ar, goo on Mr Thorpe, give Leah answer.’

He had to speak. A breath helped to allay the anger inside, the barest hint of a smile flicking his mouth. Thomas Thorpe looked across the room. ‘I’m sure,’ he paused, the bile of anger burning his throat, ‘I’m sure Mrs Marshall cannot really intend withholding the produce of her dairy, I think—’

‘Oh I intends all right!’

Thorpe’s clenched hands relaxed. Intentional or otherwise the woman’s sharp intervention had drawn attention away from himself, the call for him to answer forgotten by the people now watching Leah Marshall. That was how he would let it remain.

‘Leah wench.’ Ezekial Turley tapped his stick on the stone floor. ‘I don’t be knowin’ what bee you ’ave a buzzin’ ’neath that bonnet o’ your’n but surely you be tekin’ the catchin’ of it a mite too far.’

‘A mite too far you says Ezekial,’ Leah answered immediately. ‘And what of demandin’ a wench leave the only place her can call home, demandin’ her leave this town altogether and to tek a young lad along of her; threatenin’ should that wench refuse the doin’ then Leah Marshall’s livelihood will pay the price: tell me now Ezekial, is that bee you talks of still tekin’ too much catchin’?’

From his chair at the far side of the room Ezekial Turley answered, several shakes of his grey head lending emphasis to his quietly spoken words. ‘Think Leah wench, goin’ on as you say won’t be of no benefit to you, the refusin’ to sell what be med alone of that dairy’ll gain you naught but ’ardship.’

Silent for a moment in which her glance played over the entire meeting before coming to rest on the woman as yet on her feet, whom she knew to be one of several responsible for the threat made against Ann Spencer, Leah replied with quiet determination.

‘Then I must suffer it.’ She stared hard at the eyes meeting her own. ‘But the loss won’t be all my own. I tells folk who knows my words be for them, try buyin’ your butter and your cheese from William Rowbothom or John Craven or maybe Melia’s grocery shops along of the market place, you might even try the Home and Colonial, but I thinks you’ll find their answer to be, “sorry . . . we only have enough for our regular customers.” Then there be milk an’ cream . . . be it you visits Robert Hastilow’s place in Oakeswell Street, Jeredik Slate in Upper High Street or mebbe Charles Babb across the way in Holyhead Road they all be dairymen though I’ll wager you’ll get no more than was got from them grocers; so then ask along of Samuel Spittle, he deals in butter an’ eggs but were I you, I wouldn’t be tekin’ of no basket. But then it don’t only be dairy food you be like to find your families havin’ to do without, there be the question of meat. Y’ see there’ll be none of Betsy’s litter of ten will go to Hollingsworth’s slaughterhouse so it follows there’ll be less pork, less bacon, less sausages an’ less of all the rest that be got from a pig going to their shop in the town, and I don’t have to go a tellin’ you how many meals that be. Of course Hollingsworth butcher shop don’t be the only one in Wednesbury. You can go along to Charles Hinton or John Field and if not them, then Thomas Mason, they all be close in the market place, but y’be like to find their answer also will be “Sorry, nothing to spare.” What you seemed to forget when mekin’ of your demands be the fact war has foodstuff less easy come by since so many men be called to the front . . .’

‘Seems to me you’ve forgot a few facts!’ An irate Jinny Jinks was again on her feet. ‘Seems Leah Marshall be the one forgettin’ we be fightin’ a war, that things be ’ard enough for folk havin’ their men killed wi’out her addin’ to their worries.’

‘Leah be acquainted with that. Sorry Jinny, her lost both sons to the war.’

‘So her did!’ Jinny’s angry glance shot to the old man, his gnarled hands resting on a walking stick. ‘And I don’t be disputin’ the pain o’ that, but it be pain shared by many, Ezekial, some of who be grievin’ for folk killed not on foreign soil but right here in Wednesbury, the night them Zeppelins dropped their bombs. You all remembers . . .’ Jinny’s look swept her audience. ‘You remembers January the thirty-first.’

‘Remembers clear.’

‘Were a terrible night.’

‘King Street, nobbut a stone’s throw from this very spot, were all but demolished.’

‘Ar, and the Crown Tube Works flattened, put men out of work did that.’

Fluttering like the wings of so many startled birds the mutterings grew.

‘Tekin’ work be bad but the tekin’ of the lives of innocent children . . .’

When a sob ended another woman’s lament Jinny Jinks grabbed the opportunity to continue.

‘We all of we remembers that don’t we Leah!’ Her look flashed to the open doorway. ‘None of we be like to forget Jemima Smith along of King Street, of her leavin’ the house on hearin’ a loud explosion; thought it were an accident inside the factory but when bombs started to drop behind of her, bombs comin’ from a Zeppelin her seen shinin’ clear an’ silver in the sky, her run back home, Jemima run back to find the ’ouse naught but rubble. The bodies of Nellie, just thirteen years old, and Thomas, eleven, along of their father Joseph were brought out of the ruins that night but her youngest, Ina, barely past her seventh birthday, weren’t found ’til next morning, found where her little body had been thrown by the blast of that bomb on to the very roof of the James Russell Works. But that don’t be all of the folk who died that night, them bombs took ten more from this town as well as folk from Dudley, Tipton and Walsall.’

‘Won’t nobody’ll go forgettin’ that night,’ Ezekial put in solemnly. ‘But it were nineteen sixteen them raids was carried out, some two years gone, and ain’t bin no other since so where be the point in rakin’ over cold ashes?’

‘Point!’ Jinny pounced on the word. ‘The point be them Zeppelins d’ain’t go droppin’ their bombs on no empty ’eath but right where them Germans knowed to be coal mines and factories, and how did they know? Cos they was told, told by a spy right here among we, a spy who’ll do the same lessen we does summat about it; he’ll ’ave them Zeppelins back to tek the lives of more poor folk.’

Ezekial rapped his stick impatiently. ‘That be naught but scaremongerin’. We knows who it be Jinny be talkin’ of an’ I says her be wrong, that lad weren’t in Wednesbury at the time them there airyplanes come.’

‘ ’Ow does you know!’ The bit firmly between her teeth Jinny rounded on her opponent. ‘Cos he d’ain’t live here at the time don’t mean he couldn’t know of them mines, the iron and steel works; there do be buses and trains, he could’ve easy got hisself in an’ out of the town.’

‘A spy!’ Derision vibrated in the snapped words as Leah turned a long deprecating stare towards the pulpit. ‘I don’t needs ask who it be helped Jinny reach them findin’s same as I ’ave no need of askin’ who it be set minds to thinkin’ the young lad under my roof be a spy.’

She looked back to the quietly whispering assembly, glancing at each face in turn, as she continued. ‘Leah Marshall won’t be wantin’ of no help with
her
findin’s for they be already med and they be this. The lad and the wench along of him be remainin’ at Leah Marshall’s place so long as they be minded; so . . .’ She glared intensely at the woman whose implied accusation had caused such a stir ‘. . . that bein’ the way of it Jinny Jinks then you and any other folk holdin’ any argument with that best bring it not to Ann Spencer nor yet to Edward Langley but to me. You all knows where I live.’ Gathering the corners of her shawl Leah held them, her glance shifting from the suddenly silent onlookers to the lone figure in the pulpit.

‘You all knows Leah Marshall’s place,’ she repeated, her look unwavering, ‘but should it be Jinny, Lottie Hopcroft or any other feels the need of help putting thought into word then I be certain Thomas Thorpe’ll be ready to give advice, ready as he ever is to fill folks’ minds and mouths with whatever be useful to Thomas Thorpe.’

The last words provoked a series of sharp gasps around the room. Leah lifted the shawl, draping it to cover her bonnet, then turned and walked away.

‘
There be summat I needs tell the pair of you
.’

Leah had looked up over her cup of tea.

‘
I waited of you comin’, Edward, for I wouldn’t ’ave you thinkin’ Ann had talked of that which her begged you say nothin’ of. But it ’appened neither of you needed break no promise for I ’eard for myself. Don’t be Leah Marshall’s way to go listenin’ to other folks’ conversation but what drifted across that yard when I were comin’ through the scullery, what you said about women no longer wantin’ to buy from my dairy, then I considered it to be my business to listen cos I knowed rightly not you nor Ann would’ve said a word of it to me.
’

Leah had known yet had made not the slightest mention of the fact. Ann felt again a feeling almost of guilt at hiding something from the other woman. Even Edward’s glance, his quick smile as if to say, ‘I could have told you so; you can never hide anything from Leah,’ had not entirely compensated.

As she fastened the buttons of the calico nightgown conscience burned warm again in Ann. On the first evening in this house Leah had brought her to this room, had taken the nightgown from the dresser. For a moment she had held it close to her breast, seeming to tremble, then she had turned but though the trembling had been mastered the pain in those gentle green eyes had not.

‘
I couldn’t ’ave the sendin’ of these to the pawnshop
.’

Leah had smiled as she spoke but tears had sparkled and again it had seemed the ache inside would be too strong to let her speak. Then she had held out the nightdress.

‘
If it be you ’ave no quarrel with the wearin’ then the things you’ll find in this room be your’n an’ welcome
.’

She had left then, her quick footsteps on the wooden stairs seeming to Ann to be the drum of heartbreak she had glimpsed behind the threatened tears.

Her fingers pausing on the last of the row of tiny buttons Ann looked at her reflection in a small mirror. How much pain had it caused Leah to part with the belongings of a cherished daughter?

Now, Ann Spencer was adding to that hurt. Her own eyes seemed to accuse her from the mirror. It is right I should leave, Ann cried silently, staying here can only bring more unhappiness to Leah.

And what of Ann Spencer? The reflected eyes asked their own silent question. What of her unhappiness?

She would not think of that, she would not think any more of what had passed earlier in the evening.

Ann climbed into the neat iron-framed bed but even as she turned off the pretty blue-globed lamp memories began to live in her mind.

‘
There you ’ave it!
’ Leah’s voice seemed to rise in the stillness. ‘
I told it plain, Alec and y’self bides in this house for as long as you be minded
.’

‘
We both know your kindness and we thank you for it . . .
’ Ann heard her own reply. ‘
But Alec and I are agreed we cannot be the cause of any loss to your business
.’

Behind closed eyes Ann saw Leah shake her head.