Farewell to Lancashire (17 page)

Even the people working for him in the shop had noticed that something was very wrong, he could tell. But she’d not given them incontrovertible proof that she was mad. She was too cunning for that. She still went to tea with her friends and invited them to tea with her, behaving perfectly normally then.

He didn’t think he could go on like this for much longer.

In early September, a group of solemn gentlemen came to Outham, calling on the Vicar, who summoned the clerics of the other denominations to a meeting in the church hall.

What was said there was kept a secret, but it sent the Vicar’s wife whispering to her friend Isabel, who stared at her in delight.

‘Would you help me?’ she begged. ‘My dearest Sylvia, would you help me take advantage of this opportunity to get rid of those creatures? I feel so weighed down by the humiliation of seeing them flaunting themselves around the town. I’m constantly worrying what they’ll do next. And now Joseph is going to move them into our cottage near the park. Can you believe that? They’ll be spreading their poison among decent people.’

‘Near the park? Why, they’ll be just round the corner from us if they live there! Creatures like that! You can certainly count on my help. I’ll make sure my husband does whatever is necessary to get rid of them. It’ll take a week or two to arrange, though.’

‘That’s all right. There are things I need to do first to persuade them to leave.’

When the Vicar’s wife had left, Isabel sat and thought for a while, then put on her bonnet. She walked out through the shop, saying airily as she passed her husband, ‘I need some fresh air.’

Joseph didn’t protest, even though it looked like rain. He watched her leave, a little worried by the smug smile that curved her lips slightly, the air of suppressed triumph that hung about her. Something had changed since this morning, he could tell.

What was she plotting now? He’d have to keep a careful watch on her, for his nieces’ sake.

Isabel went to find the woman she’d contacted before, a woman of the streets who’d do anything for money. She made sure no one was nearby who knew her before she entered the noisome narrow alley behind the main street.

When the doorman let her into the house and took her up to his mistress, she asked to see the man she’d seen before.

The woman frowned. ‘Why?’

‘None of your business.’

When the man was found, Isabel sent the woman away before she told him what she wanted doing.

‘It’ll cost you more than the other.’

‘I’m prepared to pay generously.’

‘Come back tomorrow with fifty pounds. I’ll make arrangements once I’ve seen the money.’

Isabel was glad to leave
that house
, turning up her nose at the smell in the alley behind it. She hurried past lounging figures at corners and on doorsteps, her veil pulled down over the front of her bonnet.

It was
his
fault she’d had to come here, but soon she would be free of him, free of them all.

But it had to be done right. Not only did
he
need dealing with, but those nieces of his had to be punished, especially the oldest one, who was the most impudent and immoral of them all.

She smiled. She’d just arranged a very fitting punishment.

The four sisters went to inspect Brook Cottage and were delighted with it. There were only two small bedrooms, but there was also an attic, one of the old handloom weavers’ rooms, with a long row of small windows to front and rear to give more light for weaving. They decided Cassandra should have this for her bedroom and the twins would share the larger of the two bedrooms.

Their uncle watched them exploring the house, a fond smile on his face. It made him look like their father, which both hurt and yet brought him closer.

‘When shall I send a cart to move your things?’ he asked.

‘As soon as you like,’ Cassandra said. ‘One of the families who’s renting a room from us is going to take over renting our house. They can manage if people move into our rooms.’ She looked at him sadly. ‘We’ve had to sell most of our furniture, so there’s not a lot to move.’

‘I’ll buy you more. I can’t have my nieces going short, can I?’

It was as if he felt he must buy their affection, Cassandra thought. She must show him that wasn’t necessary.

The next day two men arrived with a cart and two empty wooden tea chests containing straw. They carried out the battered furniture, the pitifully ragged bundles of bedding and clothes, while the sisters filled the tea chests with their remaining crockery and cooking ware, packed in straw.

Within the hour they’d left the house they’d lived in all their lives.

‘It feels strange to have left,’ Maia said as they walked across town behind the cart.

Pandora was almost dancing along, her face alight. ‘It’ll be wonderful living so close to the park! Isn’t our uncle a lovely man?’

‘Yes. But he always looks sad,’ Maia added.

‘Who wouldn’t look sad with a wife like that?’

‘You don’t think she’ll ... try to hurt us? She frightens me, she looks so fierce.’

‘What can she do? We don’t even go to the sewing classes at her church any more, and Mrs Rainey and the ladies from our own chapel know we’re not immoral.’

Then there was no time for chatting as they began to set the new house to rights. It looked quite bare, but they didn’t let that upset them. They were making a new start here and knew their father would be happy to see it.

Joseph got ready to go out at nine o’clock that evening, having closed the shop a little early. He was looking forward to a walk across town because it’d been a fine day and the late evening was still warm.

As he put on his hat and coat, his wife came to bar his way.

‘I know where you’re going,’ she said. ‘To see those whores.’

‘My nieces are not whores.’

‘I’ve
seen
one of them with a man in the church- yard.’

He didn’t even bother to answer, but tried to push past her.

She clung to his arm. ‘I’m giving you one last chance. I’m your wife. You should stay with me, not go to them. I beg you, Joseph, don’t go.’

He had to fight to get past her.

Isabel stood there for a moment or two, panting, then straightened her clothing, muttering, ‘It’s his own fault.’ Before she went up to their living quarters, she told the maid to go to bed.

Dot was so relieved to be given an early night, she didn’t question this, but nodded and began to bank the kitchen fire. ‘What about the master?’

‘Oh, he can let himself in. He has a key. I’m not waiting up for him. I’m exhausted.’

Impatiently Isabel waited for the girl to go to bed. It seemed to take a long time for Dot to finish her tasks and yawn her way upstairs.

Then Isabel sat down. She didn’t try to embroider or read, just sat and waited, feeling very peaceful.

She’d tried to stop him. Whatever happened now was his own fault, not hers.

As Joseph was passing the park, two men burst out of the bushes and attacked him with cudgels and knives. He yelled for help, then felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down to see a knife hilt protruding.

‘He’s done for,’ one of the men said and pulled the knife out.

The pain was excruciating but Joseph couldn’t even cry out as he fell to the ground.

‘Easiest money I ever earned,’ the other man said as they walked away.

Joseph lay there, unable to move. The pain had gone now and he felt as if he was floating. He was quite sure his wife had arranged this attack and suddenly it came to him that he’d been mortally wounded.

His greatest regret was that he wouldn’t be there to help his nieces. But he’d still kept his promise to his brother, as Isabel would find out. He prayed she wouldn’t harm them. If there was a God up above, surely he’d look after those fine girls?

Blood seeped out, feeling warm on the fingers Joseph had pressed instinctively to his chest. Slowly the night grew darker, much darker ...

W
hen her husband hadn’t returned by midnight, Isabel knew it was done. Calmly she got undressed and went to bed. She slept soundly and woke early to a chorus of birdsong from the nearby park, smiling at what the day would bring. Freedom, that’s what. She’d be free to do anything she liked from now on.

She rang for the maid and when Dot brought up the cup of tea and the ewer of hot water, Isabel sipped the warm sweet liquid in a leisurely way before getting dressed.

When she went down to the kitchen, she asked casually, ‘Has my husband gone down to the shop already?’

‘No, ma’am. He hasn’t even rung for his tea and hot water yet.’

Isabel looked at the clock. Time to start taking action. ‘That’s strange. He’s usually up by this time. Go up and peep into his room, make sure he’s all right.’

‘But he always locks the door.’

‘Then knock on it till he answers, you fool.’

Dot clattered up the back stairs. She was down again within the minute, eyes wide with astonishment. ‘The door wasn’t locked, ma’am. The master isn’t there and his bed hasn’t been slept in.’

‘What?’

Isabel hurried upstairs, not complaining when the young maid crept up after her. She walked into her husband’s bedroom and checked it. The bed was untouched. He’d definitely not returned.

‘Where can he be?’ She waited. What a stupid fool that girl was! Why didn’t she suggest sending for the police? Impatient to get it done, Isabel clapped one hand to her head and feigned a stagger. ‘I don’t know what to do. I feel faint.’

‘Let me help you into the parlour, ma’am.’

When she was sitting there with the smelling salts and a handkerchief pressed to her face to hide the smile that would keep creeping back, Isabel said in a faint voice, ‘Go round to the police station. Tell them Mr Blake didn’t come home last night. Tell them I’m worried about him. Then call at the Vicar’s and ask if Mrs Saunders can come round to see me. Tell the Vicar why. Is that clear?’ She made the girl repeat her instructions to be sure.

Only when the back door had slammed did Isabel allow the smile to settle on her face. Just for a few minutes. After all, it was her first day of freedom.

Before the maid came back there was a knocking on the front door of the shop and she tiptoed to the window to peer out. The boy was there and the two young men who served in the shop. She couldn’t leave them waiting outside. It’d cause comment and stop customers coming in. She went down and drew back the bolts.

They looked at her in surprise, so she said in a failing voice, ‘Mr Blake went out for a walk last night and didn’t come back. I’ve sent for the police. You’d better open the shop and carry on as usual.’

They goggled at her but she didn’t stay, pretending to stumble on her way through to the house.

‘Do you need any help up the stairs, Mrs Blake?’

It was one of the two young men who worked in the shop. Prebble was quite short, a sharp-faced fellow, and she was never quite sure whether his respectful attitude was genuine, but he’d been working there long enough to know how things were run. If he behaved himself, she’d appoint him manager. The other senior assistant was so tall he towered over her and she didn’t like that. Besides, she’d seen Carr being polite to
those girls
. He would pay for that.

‘Thank you. I do feel rather faint. I’m so worried about my husband.’ She allowed Prebble to help her up the stairs, then sent him down to the shop again, with instructions to behave normally and not say a word to the customers about what had happened.

Feeling very peaceful, she sat waiting for the police to come.

Cassandra and her sisters went to their sewing classes the morning after they’d moved into the cottage, because they didn’t want to be more of a burden than was necessary on their uncle. They’d not only continue to earn money by coming here but it would help fill the time. Maia hadn’t been to the classes since their father fell ill, but was warmly welcomed back by the Methodist Minister’s wife. Mrs Rainey was a wonderful woman, kind to all, well liked by her husband’s congregation.

Towards the end of the morning a young man came into the room and went to whisper to the ladies running the class that day. From their shocked faces, it was bad news.

By now, everyone in the room had stopped work.

Mrs Rainey walked along the aisle to where the four sisters were sitting. ‘Could you please come outside? I have some bad news for you, I’m afraid.’

They looked at one another in surprise and followed her quietly out.

‘Your uncle was attacked and killed near the park last night. His body was found this morning under some bushes.’

Maia burst into tears, the others stood stiff with shock, then Cassandra managed to ask, ‘You mean – he was murdered?’

‘So the messenger said. Do you want to go to your aunt?’

Cassandra shook her head. ‘She’d not want to see us. I don’t quite know what to do, Mrs Rainey.’

‘Why don’t you get something to eat now and go home? It’s nearly the end of the class, after all. She may send a message to you there.’