For a Mother's Sins (35 page)

‘Well, lass, I thought I’d be with you. I’ll need a comforting hand through the night.’ He grinned.

‘Oh, will you now? And what if I don’t want you here?’ Molly couldn’t resist teasing him.

‘After all the times you’ve begged me to stay, you’re going to turn me out?’ he laughed.

‘Well, I suppose you can stay then . . . sleeping in the chair, of course!’

John grabbed her and held her tight. ‘Nay, lass. I hope that bed doesn’t make a lot of noise, because if it does, Lizzie’s not going to get much sleep!’

‘Why, John Pratt, you need to watch what you’re saying! I’m just thankful she’s not back from work yet.’

‘Ahh, shut up, woman, and give me a kiss.’ He squeezed her tight and kissed her hard and firm on the lips. When he finally released her, he said, ‘I’ve enough saved up to
pay for the vicar – how about marrying me quick? You better had if we’re going to be running that pub.’

‘What did you just say? I thought you wanted to sleep on it?’ Molly was flushed and breathless. Could all this really be hers? Marriage and a pub?

‘Well, we’d better do it properly if we’re going to do it. And I reckon we’d be bloody stupid if we didn’t take Helen up on her offer. I can just see myself with an
apron on, opening beer casks for my customers while the drunks admire my wife. I don’t need the night to sleep on it and anyway I’ve better things to do in bed with a woman like you
than think about business.’

‘Oh, John!’ Molly hugged him and kissed him all over, only to be interrupted by Lizzie slamming the hut door and bursting into tears.

She stomped past the embracing couple and sat down next to the stove.

‘What ever’s up, pet? Why all the tears? John’s fine – look, he’s here, he didn’t get hurt in the tunnel collapse.’ Molly went to console her
daughter.

‘It’s George, Mam. He’s . . . he’s going back to Leeds. I’ll never see him again! What am I going to do? I love him.’ Lizzie sobbed into her hankie,
heartbroken that her first crush was leaving her.

‘Aye, you wanted nowt to do with him anyway. He’s one of them, lass, he’s not our sort.’ Molly hugged her sobbing daughter.

‘Your mother’s right. We’ve our ways and they’ve theirs. He’d only have used you, lass.’ John tousled her hair and looked on helpless as she cried her heart
out.

‘What do you know? You’re both old, you don’t know how I feel.’ She sobbed and wiped her tears before walking to her bed and throwing herself upon it to bury her head in
her pillow.

John took a step towards her but Molly held him back.

‘Leave her, John. She’ll get over it. I can remember when I lost my first beau. You never forget, your first love is always special.’ She pulled the dividing curtain to give
Lizzie her privacy. ‘Let’s go and have a quick stroll before I go back to help Helen with the evening crowd. It’s grand out, the days are getting longer. It’ll soon be
summer.’ She grabbed John’s hand and urged him outside, threading her arm through his as they strolled down the Hawes Road.

‘Would you look at that sunset!’ Both turned and gazed at the golden rays of the setting sun filtering through low cloud over the dark shape of the partly built viaduct. The fellside
of Whernside was lit up in a blaze of golden light, highlighting the white shapes of sheep as they grazed their last mouthful of moorland feed before nightfall. A lonesome curlew sang its haunting
song overhead and the smell of peat and heather filled the air.

‘Once all the huts and the navvies have gone it will be a beautiful place. The sort of place where we will all enjoy living, even Lizzie, once she gets over George. It’s so hard at
that age. She probably feels her whole world is coming to an end. Happen she’ll feel different in the morning, poor lass. She’s bound to fall in love again before long. Someone usually
comes around the corner when you least expect them.’

‘Is that what I did?’ John sat on an outcrop of limestone and pulled Molly to sit down beside him.

‘Nay, I was a lost soul, and you know it. I wasn’t coping at all well.’ Molly blushed, remembering how she had almost become dependent on drink. ‘If it hadn’t been
for your mother taking Lizzie in, I’d probably be in that churchyard with everybody else. And then you made yourself known, and look where we are now: sitting on a big lump of stone with our
whole lives in front of us!’ She giggled and kissed John on the cheek.

‘Let’s do it, lass – let’s get married, run the Welcome and start a family.’ John hugged Molly tight and kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘You’re
beautiful, Molly Mason, and I’m a lucky man.’

‘Family . . . I don’t know about family. I’ve done my bit for children, but perhaps it would be nice to hear the patter of tiny feet again. I miss my Tommy and I wasn’t
the best of mothers to him.’ Molly felt tears coming to her eyes. She was crying too for the baby she’d miscarried and never told anyone about, not even John, the father. She only hoped
she could have children after that.

‘You’d no choice, lass. This time it’ll be different.’ He patted her hand. ‘Come on, that sun’s going down and there’s still a nip in the air.’
John stood up and pulled her to her feet. ‘Time for you to go to work. Tell Helen we’ll take her up on her offer. And while you’re doing that, I’ll go and see our lovelorn
Lizzie.

‘Should I tell Helen tonight? Do you really think we can take it on?’ Molly was almost trotting to keep up with John’s long strides. ‘I can’t cook, you know.’
Waves of doubt kept washing over her every time she thought of that drawback. It was a lot to take on.

‘If we don’t grab this, we’ll be following the railway to Carlisle. I’ve had enough and I want to settle down.’ They were back at the camp now and he stopped
walking and turned to her. ‘Tell Helen we gratefully accept her offer – we’ll worry what to do about your cooking when we’re in there!’ He winked at her, held her
tight and kissed her once again. Catching sight of Doctor Thistlethwaite watching them from the steps of the hospital, he shouted, ‘Go on, lass, this is the beginning of our new
future!’ as Molly walked away.

Tipping his cap at the doctor, he set off along the track back to the hut whistling a merry tune. He knew he was the better man for Molly, and by gum he liked rubbing the doctor’s nose in
it.

‘Rats were playing dominoes last night,’ said Lizzie cheekily, looking over the breakfast table at her mother and John. She’d heard the bed-head knocking
against the hut’s walls on the other side of the curtain.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’ Molly spooned the porridge out and looked slyly at her daughter. ‘Anyway, John and I have something to tell you –
haven’t we, John?

‘Aye, that’s right. If you’re able to face news, after your heartbreak of yesterday.’ John tickled her under the chin and smiled.

Lizzie’s face dropped, thinking again about her George. ‘I know I was upset, and I still am. I’m going to miss him. I think I love him.’

‘Never mind, pet. Plenty more fish in the sea – and they’ll all be fighting over you, my girl. Now, listen to our news.’ Molly couldn’t bear to keep it to herself a
moment longer. ‘John and I are going to get married!’

‘Is that all? You told me that before – why tell me again when George is leaving me?’ Lizzie sulkily stirred another helping of sugar into her porridge.

‘Is that all we get, Miss Misery? Anyway, we’ve more to tell you.’ Molly drew a deep breath and launched into the news she’d been saving: ‘We’re going to live
and work in the Welcome – Helen’s moving back to her family and she’s going to rent the place to John and me. Soon you’ll soon have your own room and a proper home! You can
have first pick of the bedrooms, I promise.’

‘Are we really going to live in the pub?’ Lizzie beamed. ‘And a whole room to myself? Can I help serve on?’ The questions came thick and fast and George’s imminent
departure was forgotten as the move was discussed, and their imaginations ran wild redecorating and furnishing their soon-to-be home.

‘Best get yourself off to work, Lizzie, else Mr Ashwell will be docking your wages.’ Molly practically had to push the chattering Lizzie out of the door.

‘I won’t need Mr Ashwell before long, so it won’t matter!’ Lizzie yelled as her mother watched her running along the track.

‘Now, what are you going to do today, John Pratt?’ Molly put her arms around her man before she too set off to work.

‘First thing I’m going to do is make my way down to the vicarage and see the vicar, set us a date. The sooner the better – will that do for you?’

‘That’ll be grand, my love.’ Molly kissed him on the cheek and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.

‘After that, I’m going to pop my head in on the bonniest two women I know and indulge in a bit of serious flirting, while I’m still single.’ John grinned.

‘If I find you talking to anyone other than me, John Pratt, you can forget about getting married!’ Molly tossed her hair back as colour rose to her cheeks.

‘I meant you and Helen, you idiot. I’d hardly walk from seeing the vicar to another woman’s arms. Go on, get a move on, you’re going to be late now. There’ll be
none of this when you’re in charge: it’ll be a twenty-four-hour job, I hope you know that?’ He patted her bottom and winked.

‘I do.’ Molly grinned and kissed him lightly on the cheek before closing the hut door and humming all the way to the Welcome.

‘You’ll have to come in early a morning or two, Moll.’ Helen, red-faced and sweating, was lifting loaves of bread out of the oven while her two youngest
played around at her feet and her oldest teased the pet cat that was sitting on the back of a chair that had seen better days. ‘I’ll have to show you how to make bread and pastry. Once
you’ve got the hang of that, you can’t go far wrong. Cake-making’s the extra earner, but without bread and pastry, job’s worth nowt.’ She wiped her sweaty brow.
‘Thomas – leave that cat alone, will you! Take Patsy and Henry into the other room. I can’t have them under my feet while I’m working.’

Young Thomas dutifully held the hands of his younger siblings and pulled them into the adjoining room without saying a word.

‘Aye, I’ve had a day and a half already. I’ve been up all night with young Henry, he’s cutting his back teeth, poor little bugger.’

Seeing how exhausted Helen was, Molly volunteered: ‘I’ll make us a brew, and then you can tell me what you want doing today and what you think I should know. John’s coming in
later. He’s gone to see the vicar to book the church for our wedding. I still can’t believe how quickly everything’s happening.’

‘Believe me, you’ll be cursing me this time next year when you’re in my shoes – hardly any sleep, a baby round your feet and John sleeping it off ’cause he’s
taken a liking to the ale!’ Helen watched as Molly took the kettle from off the hook above the fire and poured two mugs of tea.

‘It’ll still beat what I was doing this time last year: up to my armpits in soapy water, mucky laundry everywhere and hands that chapped with the cold and wet that I could hardly rub
them together! If it means having a proper roof over my head and John and Lizzie by my side, I’ll gladly do whatever has to be done.’

Helen took a gulp of tea. ‘Right then, you can start by making a rabbit pie. There’s rabbits to skin and pastry to make. I’ll show you what to do and then you can get on with
it. Doors open at ten and close when everyone’s gone home. We take no tick, and no one sleeps on the benches. You’ve to tell ’em how it is from day one, else they’ll all
take advantage of you.’

Molly had always thought Helen was unsure of herself and easily dominated, but now she was beginning to see that her friend was an astute business woman and knew her trade well.

‘Any beer you want comes from Samuel Sedgwick on Lancaster docks – that’ll be John’s job. Henry used to go for it every Wednesday with his horse and cart, stop overnight
and come back the following day. But since he’s buggered off, Sedgwick’s lad brings it over for me. I’ve to put him up for nowt, but he’s a grand lad so it’s no
bother. Don’t go to the other brewery down there – they water the beer down and charge more, thieving buggers!’ Helen rattled on, issuing instruction after instruction until
Molly’s head was spinning.

The rabbit’s innards had made Molly retch and Helen had tutted at her warm hands as she rubbed the lard into the flour before rolling the shortcrust pastry out and placing it on top of the
steaming rabbit and potato filling. The huge enamel pie dish was now in the giant oven. Molly hoped that it would be well received by customers. The cooking side of things still filled her with
dread and the ordeal with the rabbit carcase had only made her more conscious than ever that this was not her strong point.

Helen stood in the corner of the cold pantry going through all the contents of the stone shelves and telling her where to buy the butter and cheeses that were set out on the cool stone
slabs.

‘Don’t forget to brush the salt off the bacon in a week or two and then hang it up to cure.’ Helen pointed at a big zinc bath filled with the two long flitches of bacon covered
in salt. ‘There’s no need to cover them with a pillowcase like I have the hams, but watch for bluebottles later on in the year. They’re buggers for laying eggs in food.’

So that was what was in the pillowcases. Molly had been wondering ever since she spotted them hanging from massive iron hooks set into the ceiling. As she looked around her at the jars of
pickles and jams Helen had made with loving care, she realized the size of the task she had taken on.

‘Anyone home?’

The shout from the bar had both women hurrying out of the pantry to greet John. He was red in the face with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Well, Molly Mason, we’ve got a date when
we’re to be wed.’ He grabbed her waist. ‘Next Saturday, one o’clock. I told the vicar we were in a rush.’

‘You did what?’ Molly’s face looked like thunder.

‘I told him we were in a hurry. Well, we are, aren’t we? You want to get on with it, and Helen will want to be out of here.’ John was taken aback by Molly’s face and
Helen’s fit of giggles.

‘John Pratt, have you no sense? He’ll think I’m . . . you know.’ His puzzled expression told her that he didn’t know, which made her even more exasperated.
‘He’ll think I’m having a baby, you silly bugger!’ She turned to Helen. ‘It’s no giggling matter, Helen Parker. I don’t want everybody to think I’m
in the family way, ’cause I’m not!’