Calico Road (7 page)

He would think it a shame not to take advantage of all the opportunities he’d been given!

Humming happily, he went up to mend the catch on his bedroom window and oil the squeaking hinges on Phoebe’s bedroom door. Then he went out to the stables and sheds, amazed at how perfectly usable stuff had just been left lying around in piles. He spent a bit of time petting the old mare, who seemed glad of the company, then he checked the cart, which was in a sorry state.

He didn’t reckon much to Phoebe’s husband – slack, he’d been, letting the inn go to rack and ruin – but she was a lovely woman, and hardworking too.

Jethro was informed that Toby had left the Backenshaw mill cottage and taken every stick of wood from it, even the shelves and coat hooks which he’d claimed were his.

‘Shall I cry theft, Mr Greenhalgh?’ the rent collector asked eagerly. ‘We can easily get someone to swear the things were in the cottage when the woman moved in, though I think he has the right of it and the place was bare.’

‘No. Why did you turn him out? I didn’t tell you to do that.’

‘Your father’s orders. Said as soon as he was buried, I was to give Fletcher notice.’

Jethro felt anger rise in him, but it wasn’t this man’s fault that John Greenhalgh was trying to control things even from the grave. He dismissed the rent collector and went to sit by the window in the library.

Jethro didn’t like the methods used, but admitted to himself that it was a relief to have Fletcher away from Backenshaw. But as long as the man lived he posed a threat and whether anyone else realised it or not, Jethro was only too aware of that because his father had taken him fully into his confidence when he’d realised he hadn’t long to live.

Now it was a question of wait and see. If Fletcher did nothing to draw attention to himself, perhaps things would work out all right.

And at the moment Jethro had more than enough on his hands running the mill he’d inherited from his father because there were quite a few changes he intended to make there. He’d miss the old man’s expertise, but he wouldn’t miss being told what to do or the penny pinching when money needed to be spent on maintenance.

But as the days passed he found he couldn’t get his bastard brother out of his mind and decided in the end that it wouldn’t hurt to pay someone in Calico to report on what Fletcher was doing.

Jethro let out a sniff of amusement as he remembered the strange condition Fletcher had agreed to. The free pot of beer to be provided every January gave him an excuse to go up there himself and check how things were. Was that why his father had made the condition? Surely the old man hadn’t expected the two of them to get to know one another or act as brothers? It was the last thing either of them wanted. He’d never know now. All he did know was that his father had been a very devious man.

But Jethro would definitely find someone to spy on Fletcher for him. It never hurt to know what was going on. Jethro was his father’s son where that was concerned, if not in other ways.

Ah, to hell with Fletcher! He had more important things on his mind. He needed a wife to run his home and provide him with heirs, and he wanted several children, especially a son to inherit the mill. He’d resisted marrying while his father was alive because he didn’t want the old man picking out a wife for him. That was something he’d do for himself. His parents’ marriage had been so cold, he had a fancy to marry not for money but from inclination. If he could find someone suitable.

He’d have to keep his eyes open.

By December Meg and Ben had spent several Sunday afternoons together because the weather had been fine if cold nearly every weekend. After their second outing he started waiting for her after work as well, walking her home, asking her how her day had gone, chatting gently.

At home, though, things had gone from bad to worse. Her mother didn’t speak to her any more, gave her the worst of the food and made her life difficult in many little ways.

One day, knowing Ben wouldn’t be able to get away on time because they’d had a late delivery of cotton, she waited for him instead, feeling nervous of making this unspoken declaration, wondering what he’d say.

His whole face lit up at the sight of her standing by the gatehouse and he ran across to hug her. ‘Eh, lass, I didn’t expect to see you tonight!’ He looked down at her, his face solemn, and kept his arms round her as he bent his head to give her the gentlest of kisses on the cheek. ‘I’m right proud to have everyone see a lass like you waiting for me.’

Meg linked her arm in his, feeling happy, and they walked slowly home.

She had to put up with a lot of teasing about him from the women she worked with but didn’t mind that. She did mind the barbed remarks her mother made when Jack wasn’t around, though, and the lies Netta told. Only once more did her mother slap her and then Meg did as she’d promised and hit back.

Jack was reproachful when he found out what had happened. ‘Nay, love, that was badly done of you. The Bible tells us to honour our mothers and fathers.’

‘Them as wrote the Bible hadn’t met
our
mother then. I’m not lettin’ her thump me any more, Jack, an’ that’s flat.’

He shook his head then looked at her again. ‘You look different lately. Happier.’

She nodded and couldn’t hold back a smile. ‘I am.’

‘Because of Ben Pearson?’

‘Yes. He’s a lovely fellow an’ he’s not had a single drink since we started going together.’

‘You’re still too young to get wed, love.’

‘I don’t feel young.’

‘And we do need your money. That’s why Mam’s so worried.’

Meg could feel the smile fading and her face stiffening. ‘I’m not staying with
her
for the rest of my life, whether I get wed or not. She could have been married to Phil Gitten by now an’ taken the burden off you. Did she tell you that? No, I thought not. Or she could get herself a job in the mill. There’s some part-time work going, you know. Only she’d rather have
you
working for her, making her life easy. She’ll never let you go, Jack.’

He sighed. He’d long suspected that, but if he left the children would be in trouble so he had to stay, whether he agreed with what his mother did or not. ‘You won’t run away with Ben, will you?’

‘He hasn’t asked me to wed him yet.’

‘He will.’ Jack had seen for himself the way the man looked at Meg.

As the winter grew colder, Ben bought Meg a new shawl, soft and warm and of a dusky pink colour that suited her to perfection, with her dark hair and eyes.

‘You shouldn’t have.’ She stroked the wool, loving the feel of it. She’d never had anything brand new before.

‘I wanted to. I’ve seen you shivering.’ He hesitated, then said in a rush, ‘Will you wed me, Meg? You know how fond of you I am.’

She’d already decided what her answer would be. ‘Aye, I will.’

He nearly crushed her ribs, he hugged her so hard. ‘Eh, lass, lass! I’m that pleased. I don’t have much money, but I’ll work hard an’ you’ll never go hungry as long as there’s breath in my body.’

‘There’s just one thing. Could we leave Northby after we’re wed, go and live somewhere else, do you think?’

He looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought you’d want to stay near your family.’

She tried to laugh but it turned into a sob. ‘What I want is to get as far away from
her
as possible. I could never be happy in the same town even, because she’d be watching me, telling folk I’m no good. She spoils everything, makes it feel dirty. I want us to be happy together, you and me.’

Ben suddenly guessed what lay behind this. ‘Has your mother been saying things about me?’

Meg nodded.

‘What sort of things?’

‘Lies. I know they’re lies so I’m not repeating them to you.’ She knew he hadn’t been drinking again because he wouldn’t deceive her. Anyway, she’d overheard his friends teasing him, asking if he didn’t get thirsty any more.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Whatever I was in the past, I’m not now. You’ve been the making of me, Meg. So if you’ll wed me, I’ll look for work somewhere else.’

She leaned against him. ‘It can’t happen too soon for me.’

‘Let’s go and see your mother about getting wed, then.’

She sighed. ‘There’s another problem, love. I’m not old enough an’ she’ll not give me permission. She’s been taunting me with that already. We may just have to – you know, go away and live together.’

His face grew tight with suppressed anger. ‘I don’t want us to live together without being wed. You deserve better nor that.’

‘Talk to our Jack, then. He’s the only one who can make her do anything. But if she still won’t agree, I’m leaving with or without you. I can’t stand much more of her.’ Her mother had deliberately torn her best skirt last week. Meg knew it was deliberate because she had seen the flare of triumph in Netta’s eyes when she taxed her with it – though of course her mother had denied it, said she must have caught it on a nail.

Meg didn’t tell Ben about the spiteful tricks her mother constantly played. He had enough to worry about without her adding to it. He said he’d talk to other draymen and drivers, ask them to look out for jobs for him when they delivered or picked up stuff outside Northby.

Toby listened carefully to Phoebe’s ongoing explanations about running a pub, and particularly the difficulties of brewing the beer yourself. You had to pay duty on malt, beer, and even on the hops you used. It made his head spin to think of it.

‘I used to enjoy brewing,’ she said wistfully. ‘Me an’ Hal allus worked together and if I say so myself, we made decent beer. He liked that side of the job best. But when he fell ill, I just didn’t have the time or the strength to do it all myself so we started buying from Gib Travis, the landlord of The Three Tuns over Todmorden way. He sells to quite a few small places now and he’s an honest man who brews good beer.’

‘Makes sense to continue doing that. I know less than nowt about brewing.’

‘You’d better go over and see him then. We need to order some more anyway. Oh, and he’ll want paying on delivery, mind. He doesn’t give credit and I don’t blame him. My Hal let some of his friends put things on the slate and at times we were hard put to find the money for new barrels.’

‘Do they still owe us money?’

She nodded.

‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘I thought it’d do more harm than good if you want to be accepted here.’

It only took a minute’s thought to realise she was right. ‘Well, you know Calico folk better than I do. But no more. If people can’t pay, they can’t drink.’

After some thought he asked her if there was someone who could take over the inn for a few hours, so that she could go with him to The Three Tuns the first time and introduce him.

‘Alice Bent comes in sometimes, when they can spare her on the farm. She’s only fifteen, but she’s got her head screwed on right.’

‘Then get her in.’

Toby drove them over to see Gib Travis in the cart, feeling almost in holiday mood. Although it was cold, the sun was shining and that always cheered you up. He was getting to know the ways of Bonnie, the old mare he’d inherited with the inn. Although she didn’t like to hurry, she was a strong and placid animal, which was a relief because he hadn’t had much to do with looking after horses before and had had to ask Ross for help and advice.

Gib Travis seemed a pleasant fellow. He was so thin Toby couldn’t help wondering if he ever touched his own brew. But he drew himself a pot when he gave one to Toby to test and drained it with every sign of enjoyment.

Phoebe went to chat to Mrs Travis after she’d made the introductions and the two women seemed to find a lot to talk about.

On the way back Phoebe looked at Toby and smiled. ‘You did all right there.’

‘Thanks to you, telling me what to say and ask for.’

‘Eh, it’s the least I could do. I owe you a lot, lad.’

He smiled back at her. ‘Let’s just say we work well together.’ He noticed a frown slide across her face briefly. ‘What are you worrying about now?’

‘What’ll happen when you marry.’

‘I’m in no hurry to wed and I’ll never turn you out of your home, Phoebe. That I swear.’

So of course she was in tears again. Was there ever such a woman for weeping, and as often from joy as from sorrow, he thought as he watched her mop her eyes.

But it was good to have company in his daily life again. He’d never stopped missing his mother.

And best of all, he loved being his own man, whatever his father’s reasons for giving him the inn.

PART 2

1828

4

O
ne day in early January Jack came home from work feeling exhausted. His heart sank as he heard from down the street his sister and mother screaming at one another. It embarrassed him to see the neighbours out on their doorsteps, listening and grinning.

He ran the last few yards and burst into the house to find Meg quivering with rage, clutching her precious pink shawl to her bosom. It was dirty at one end and there were muddy threads of pulled wool trailing from it. He knew she wouldn’t have worn the shawl to work because it was such a treasure to her that she kept it for best, hanging out of harm’s way on a nail he’d hammered in for her ’specially in the girls’ bedroom.

He had to shout to make himself heard. ‘What’s happened?’

Meg held the shawl out for his inspection. ‘She wore my shawl. Look at it! It’s all mucky an’ there are pulled threads.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks as she held the soft wool against her cheek.

He looked at his mother and for a moment saw shame flicker on her face – or hoped he did, because it was dreadful of her to have damaged Meg’s most precious possession.

Then Netta tossed her head, staring at him defiantly. ‘I only borrowed it to go down to the shops. It’s not my fault if I fell, is it?’