Meg drew herself up. ‘Let’s get this straight. I don’t regret marrying Ben, because he was a good husband to me and best of all he gave me Nelly. That child is the sunshine of my life and I intend to do my best for her.’
‘You still had to come home for help.’
Meg bit off an angry retort. It was never any use arguing with her mother. Netta didn’t listen to any arguments or points of view except those inside her own head. ‘Well, now I’m trying to find work and earn some brass, so what are you complaining about? Will you look after Nelly or not? If I have to find someone else, there won’t be as much money for you.’
‘I’ve no choice, then.’
Meg knew this was the best she could expect from her mother, so cleaned up her daughter, set the baby clouts to soak then got ready to go out.
Leaving Nelly was harder than she’d expected and she turned back at the door to give her another kiss. She didn’t think her mother would hurt the child, because of the extra money Meg would earn for the family, but she also knew Nelly wouldn’t get any hugs or cuddles, wouldn’t even be talked to.
‘If I don’t come back,’ she said as an afterthought, ‘it’ll be because I’ve found a job and have to start straight away. Don’t forget to feed Nelly.’
‘I brought up six of my own. You don’t forget that sort of thing.’ Netta sniffed scornfully. ‘And if you do forget, they soon start skriking and letting you know.’
‘Nelly doesn’t cry much and she has to be persuaded to eat half the time. If anything happens to her, if she doesn’t thrive, I’ll leave again. I promise you that.’
The two women stared at one another then Netta shrugged. ‘I know how to look after a babby. It’s only five year since I had our Joe, three year since your Dad were killed.’ She sighed.
As Meg walked slowly down the long main street, she marvelled at the changes there had been in Northby even in the time she’d been away. More houses were being built on the higher ground to one side of the street, with much banging and shouting. Another terrace of dwellings for workers at the mill, no doubt. There was a new wall round the church, brick, very neat. Square setts had been used to pave more of Weavers Lane, which was still the main thoroughfare – not the shabby part at the bottom end, but the middle and upper end.
Eh, she’d never expected to be back here, never wanted to return either. But you did what you had to, especially when you’d a child dependent on you.
When she reached her destination, Roper’s pawn shop, the moment couldn’t be put off any longer. This was her main hope for a job. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.
Roper came out of the back room at once, looked at her empty hands and frowned in puzzlement.
Meg stared round, seeing the chaos and muddle she had glimpsed from outside. Peggy would have gone mad to see such a mess. ‘I’ve come to ask for work.’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘Meg, isn’t it? Meg Staley?’
‘It’s Meg Pearson now, but my husband died so I came back to Northby. I was working in a pawn shop in Rochdale.’ She let her eyes move quickly over the jumble of bundles and objects. ‘I can see your business is doing well, but you need help.’
He scowled. ‘Well, I can’t afford it.’
‘You can and we both know it. What’s more, I know the job and you’ll make
more
money with me sorting this stuff out an’ maybe washing some of it if you’re going to sell it.’ As he screwed up his mouth, clearly about to refuse again, she added quickly, ‘I did some housework and cooking for my last employer as well.’
‘Cooking?’
She knew then that she had caught his interest and let her breath filter out slowly as his expression grew thoughtful.
‘I could give you a try, I suppose,’ he said, ‘let you prove what you say. In fact, you can start straight away.’
She nodded. ‘All right. And the wages?’
‘You need to have a job afore you talk about wages.’
‘I’ll work this one day just for my food, but I won’t do owt else till we agree about wages.’
‘All right. You can start by getting me summat decent for my dinner and tea. I’m nearly out of food.’
‘I’ll need money if I’m to go shopping.’
With a deep sigh, as if it hurt him, he went into the back room and came back with two shillings which he slapped on the counter in front of her.
She didn’t pick it up. ‘Let me see what you’ve already got in first, so I know what to buy. You wouldn’t want me to waste your money, would you?’
He shuddered visibly at the thought.
It was a big enough house to have a separate pantry but the shelves contained more objects from the shop than items of food. ‘You’ve hardly got anything in at all, Mr Roper, so two shillings won’t be enough. If you want me to do a stew, I’ll need to buy meat and taties and onions. If I could get a bit of suet, I could make a few dumplings to go with it.’ She watched him lick his lips at the thought. ‘You need a loaf, too, and I could get the stuff to make some drop scones – if you have a griddle?’
‘I’ve got a griddle somewhere. I’ll fish it out while you’re shopping.’ He fumbled in his pocket. ‘How much more will you need?’
The world seemed brighter as Meg walked down the street. She had a chance of a job and was hopeful that she could persuade Mr Roper to keep her on, if only for her cooking.
She worked hard all day, producing an excellent dinner for them both at the end of the morning and making sure her portion was visibly smaller than his, though she’d had enough tastes of the stew while cooking to make up the difference. She always seemed to be hungry these days.
Roper spooned up his stew eagerly, dunking the bread into it and dripping gravy down his chin. After the meal he tried to fumble with her breasts as she passed him. Meg snatched up the chopping knife and threatened him with it.
‘I only—’ he began in an aggrieved voice.
‘I don’t allow touching and I get
very angry
if anyone tries to maul me around.’ She looked down at the knife then back at him. ‘I’ve learned to defend mysen, Mr Roper – you have to when you’re a widow – an’ I know where a knife can do most damage to a man.’ She glanced at his crotch, saw him wince and move his hand instinctively to cover his privates. ‘If you want me to work here, you’ll not try that sort of thing again.’
He scowled. ‘Who needs you? I can get a woman any time I want.’
‘As long as it’s not me.’
She caught sight of herself in a specked mirror hanging on the wall. Her face was flushed, her eyes hard. She looked far older than her nineteen years and vicious with it – felt vicious too when men tried to take advantage of her, as a few had.
‘I’ll go back into the shop while you clear up,’ he mumbled, his eyes on the knife in her hand. ‘I’ve still not decided whether I want to employ you, mind. I’ll have to consider it again if you’re going to threaten me with knives.’ He hesitated, caught sight of the empty dishes and licked his lips.
Meg considered her own situation as she worked. She wanted this job, really wanted it, but she’d upset him. Remembering how he’d gobbled down the stew, she set about cooking some drop scones. Waiting till the shop was empty she took him one ‘just to try’. It was still warm and she’d put butter on it, which was melting.
His eyes lit up and he took a huge bite, chomping loudly, then finished the rest, wiping a trickle of melted butter from his chin with one dirty fingertip. Afterwards he stared at her, his eyes narrowing as he licked the last of the grease off his fingers. ‘You’re a cunning bitch.’ A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth and for just a minute made him look more kindly. ‘But that’s not a bad thing in my business.’
‘I’m a good cook.’ Thanks to Peggy.
‘What else can you cook?’
She listed some of Peggy’s favourites.
He gave a few slow nods, kept her waiting for an answer then gave her another sly smile. ‘You’d not have got a job with me three year ago, but I’m better set up now than I were then. I can afford to hire you – an’ I can afford the money for good food. See that you give it me.’
She nodded. ‘I will, Mr Roper. But you’ll find me a big help in the shop too. And don’t worry, I’ve learned not to be soft with customers.’ She knew better than to be soft with anyone these days. ‘What hours?’
‘As long as I’m open.’
She shook her head. ‘You’re open from early till midnight an’ you live on the premises. When would I get any sleep if I had to walk home afterwards?’
His tone was aggrieved. ‘I’m not asking you to work longer than I do.’
‘I don’t mind working till late because if you’re anything like my last place, you’ll get most of your custom in the evenings, but I want to start a bit later in the mornings. I’ll have to do your shopping on the way here as well, don’t forget.’ She waited, tapping her foot impatiently, then burst out, ‘Aw, you know you need help – an’ you like my cooking. I’ll be worth it.’
‘Aye, but you’re a cheeky young madam.’
‘I’ll need to be, working here.’
‘Must you allus have the last word?’ He let the silence stretch, then waved one hand. ‘All right. Fetch me another of them scones then get off home to your babby. An’ here’s some money for tomorrow’s food. Mind, I want an accounting of what you spend. No keeping the change for yoursen!’
‘As if I would.’
Outside she sagged against the wall for a moment or two, feeling shaky with relief. She’d done it. She’d got a job.
Meg was bone tired by the time she opened the front door but felt triumphant. Then she heard Nelly grizzling, sounding unhappy, and her own happiness vanished as she rushed to pick her little daughter up. She watched as the child recognised her and stopped crying, then dropped a kiss on the little cheek, which was still damp with tears.
‘You got a job, then?’ Netta demanded, interrupting her murmurs to the child.
Meg nodded. ‘At Roper’s.’
‘How much is he paying you?’
‘Ten shillings a week, plus my dinner and tea. I’ll keep two shillings of that for myself and give you the rest.’
‘You should give it all to me.’
Jack intervened. ‘Eight shillings is more than fair. After all, Meg will get two of her day’s meals at work so she won’t cost you much for food.’ He turned to his sister. ‘I don’t like you working for that man, though, love. He has a bad reputation with women. What if he tries to have his way with you?’
Meg laughed, a sound so harsh she surprised herself. ‘Just let him try! Just let
anyone
try!’ She had proved her ability to defend herself that very day, but she wasn’t going to worry her brother by telling him that. ‘I know what I’m doing, Jack. It’s a lot better than working in the mill an’ I’ll make sure I get first pick of owt that’s being sold.’ She watched her mother’s face brighten again and added, ‘Best of all, I start later than other folk, because I’ll be working in the evenings from now on, so I’ll have time to be with Nelly before I leave for work.’
Sophia watched from her fireside chair as Jethro brought in Mr Beardsworth to be introduced. She remembered the man now, though she hadn’t done more than greet him at her wedding. He looked very self-assured and by the way he was studying her sister, knew exactly why Jethro had invited him there.
When the men had left to go and talk business in Jethro’s office, Sophia asked, ‘Well?’
‘I don’t find him repulsive. There’s something about him, an aura of power, that men like Oswin lack, however confident they seem.’ Harriet paused, head on one side. ‘But I don’t think I’d like to cross him.’
Sophia knew what she meant. She wasn’t sure about Mr Beardsworth but couldn’t put her finger on what exactly was making her feel uneasy.
They dined in state in the rarely used dining room, which Sophia was still in the process of refurbishing. She watched as Harriet conversed with their guest and he openly appraised her, nodding his approval of her sensible answers.
After they’d eaten dessert, Sophia stood up to lead Harriet out, but Jethro held up one hand.
‘Stay with us, ladies. We’re not going to get drunk on the port. We leave that sort of behaviour to the
superior classes
.’
She knew by now how low an opinion he had of idle gentry, and also of people who let themselves get the worse for drink.
‘It’s been a pleasant meal,’ Beardsworth said, raising his glass to study the colour of the port, then setting it down untasted. ‘I’ve enjoyed the company.’ He looked sideways at Harriet then his gaze moved to Sophia, eyes resting with approval on her swollen belly for the coming child could no longer be hidden. ‘I can see already that you’ve made my friend Jethro happy, Mrs Greenhalgh. I envy him.’
‘Thank you.’
He picked up the glass and took the tiniest of sips, pursing his lips as he rolled the port round his tongue. ‘A bit too sweet for my taste, but a pretty colour.’
When they got up to move back to the parlour, Jethro took Sophia’s arm and led her quickly out. To her surprise the other two didn’t follow them.
‘What’s happening?’
‘He’s asking her.’
‘
Already?
’
‘Aye, why not?’
In the dining room Harriet stared at Mr Beardsworth in surprise as he put out his arm across the doorway to prevent her from following her sister.
‘You know why I’ve been invited here tonight, Miss Goddby.’
She nodded.
‘I prefer to speak frankly. I won’t waste my time coming here again if you aren’t interested in marrying me.’ When she didn’t speak, he prompted, ‘Well, are you?’
She swallowed hard. She’d already found out that her brother-in-law believed in plain speaking. Mr Beardsworth, it seemed, was even more blunt, even about something as delicate as this matter.
‘I wouldn’t have come here if I weren’t interested in finding myself a husband,’ she managed. But although she prided herself on her sensible attitude to life, she was feeling flustered at how quickly this was happening.