Heir to Greyladies (2 page)

And what sort of job would her stepmother find for her? Please, not the laundry or the meat works, Harriet
prayed. She couldn’t face the noise and steam of one, and the disgusting sights and smells of the other.

But you didn’t get much choice when you were only fifteen. She’d be sixteen in June, nearly grown up, but she’d still have no money and nowhere else to go.

The next morning Winifred said abruptly over their first cup of tea, ‘Today you’ll have to go and tell that teacher of yours that you’re leaving school straight away.’

Harriet had to try. ‘I got a scholarship, Winifred. It’s a real honour. It’s to that posh grammar school and it pays all my fees. I could get a really good job if I went there. I’d earn a lot more money in the long run.’

‘Only till you marry. Then the extra education would all be wasted. And what good would it do
me
for you to go there? It’d be years before you got a fancy job. Years I’d have to keep you. No, I’ve got you a job at the bakery in Compton Street and you start on Monday. I’ll get the benefit of your wages straight away.’

She waited and added, ‘Well? Aren’t you going to thank me?’

Harriet looked at her pleadingly.

Winifred leant forward and poked her hard in the chest. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, my girl: I’d not have let your father send you to that fancy grammar school, even if he was still alive. Do you think I’ll put up with you making posh friends and looking down your nose at me, like some of your snooty neighbours do?’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘And you’re under age, so you have to do what I say. Don’t you ever forget that. You’re mine till you’re twenty-one.’

Harriet held back her tears. She knew she could do nothing
till she was older, and even then it’d be hard to get away without any money. From the sounds of it, Winifred was planning to take all her wages for the next five years. It wasn’t fair.

Unless she married. And she didn’t want to do that. Boys were so rough. And look how Norris behaved. Ugh.

No, she’d have to find another way to escape.

‘Since you don’t start work till Monday, when you come back from school this morning – and make sure you don’t linger! – you can give the house a really good spring clean. From top to bottom. About time you did more around here.’

The following Monday Harriet started work at the bakery. She had to get there at four o’clock in the morning and work till four in the afternoon.

Winifred presented her with a battered alarm clock. ‘Use this. We don’t want them docking your wages for being late.’

It felt strange getting ready in the dark house, trying not to make a noise, but at least Norris wasn’t around to bother her at that hour.

On the first day, she had to wait till the other employees had started work at the bakery before the foreman had time to tell her what to do. She felt a fool, sitting on a bench near the entrance with everyone staring at her.

He stared too, studying her clothes and grimacing. ‘You’ve nearly grown out of that blouse, girl. Women who work here dress decently.’ He looked at her breasts, but without the leer that Norris had, then turned to the woman next to him. ‘Find out what else she’s got to wear, Vera. If she hasn’t any better things than these, we’ll have to look for someone else for the job.’

‘Her mother will get her whatever’s necessary, Rodney.
I know Winifred. She wouldn’t have understood what was needed, that’s all.’

‘Well, make certain she does understand now. I only gave the girl a job as a favour to you. We run an immaculate place here and my girls have to keep themselves nice. We bake for the gentry as well as for others, and they don’t want to see scruffy folk touching the food they eat.’

He turned away without speaking to Harriet again.

Vera smiled at her. ‘Come on. I’ll find you an overall. Tell Winifred to get you some new clothes before next week. Sturdy ones, because they’ll need a lot of washing to get the flour dust out.’

It didn’t take Harriet more than a minute’s thought to say, ‘She won’t do it unless
you
tell her. She never listens to me.’

‘No wonder, if you’re so lazy. Well, you’ll not be lazy here, or you’ll be out on your ear.’

Harriet gaped at her. What had Winifred been saying about her now?

All day she worked hard, scrubbing floors, tables, walls, helping keep everything as clean as possible, doing things even before they asked her because it was obvious what was needed.

At the end of the day, Vera said in her abrupt way, ‘I’ll walk home with you and tell Winifred.’

‘Thank you.’

Vera frowned at her as if puzzled. ‘You worked well today.’

‘I’m not lazy.’ She met the older woman’s eyes without flinching. ‘And I never have been.’

‘Hmm.’

Winifred grumbled but took Harriet along to the market on Saturday afternoon and bought her some plain, practical clothes. She didn’t give the girl any choice about colour
or style, just bought the cheapest and most hard-wearing garments she could find.

From then on, the only difficult thing about working at the bakery was going home on the afternoons Winifred went out to see her friends.

Three weeks after her father died, Norris caught her on her own again. He was hiding in the scullery and didn’t come out till she’d checked that he wasn’t in the kitchen and closed the front door.

Her heart began to hammer and she backed away from him.

‘Your father’s not here to protect you now.
I’m
the man of the house and what I say goes.’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his body. She could feel his man’s part pressing against her and froze in terror. Mrs Leigh had explained only too clearly what that meant.

Her stillness must have fooled him into thinking she would do as he said, and with a laugh he let go of her to fumble with his trousers.

She kicked him in the shin as hard as she could, knocking him off balance, then fled down the hall and out into the street. Further along she bumped into old Mr Prentice and gasped, glancing over her shoulder at Norris, who was now standing at the front door, scowling.

The old man stared from her to her stepbrother, eyes narrowed. ‘Giving you trouble, is he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Them Hardings are a randy lot, always have been. You can shelter in my house till his mother gets back.’

‘Thanks.’

‘And if you ever need shelter when I’m out, use my shed. I’ll show you where I keep the key and there’s a bolt to lock
it from the inside as well. You’re young enough to climb over the wall into the backyard.’

‘Thank you, Mr Prentice. I’d better go in the back way now. I don’t want Norris to see me going into your house or he’ll know where I hide.’

‘You do that. You’re a nice lass and don’t deserve such disrespect.’ He scowled along the street at Norris, who was still watching them. ‘We don’t usually have that sort living in our street. His mother’s a floozy, and looks it too, however fine she dresses. It’s in the eyes. You can’t mistake it. And he’s a lout, a real rough head.’

She walked round to the alley at the back and got over Mr Prentice’s back wall easily. The kind old man was waiting for her at the kitchen door and at once led the way into his house. ‘Cup of tea?’

‘Yes, please. But I’ll have to watch out for
her
coming home. An’ I don’t want her to see me coming out of your house, either. She doesn’t like me even talking to the neighbours.’

‘You can slip out through the back again. We’ll take our tea into the front room, so you’ll see her coming past. I often sit there and watch what’s going on. I don’t miss much.’

The following week, however, Winifred was late coming back from her friend’s and Harriet didn’t dare delay going home any longer, because she had strict orders to get the tea ready.

Her heart sank when she found Norris sitting in the kitchen. She paused near the door, not sure whether to run away.

‘I’m hungry,’ he said. ‘Hurry up with that food. Mum will soon be back.’

She started to get things out, filling the washing-up bowl
with water to peel the potatoes. The way he sat there, watching, smiling as if he knew something she didn’t, made her nervous. She tried not to go too close to him, but she had to get things out of the cupboard.

When she’d passed him safely a couple of times, she relaxed a bit.

That was when he put out his foot and tripped her.

As she lay sprawled on the floor, he got down to join her. She rolled away, screaming for help, suddenly more afraid of him than she’d ever been before.

He was too strong for her and dragged her away from the broken crockery onto the hearth rug. She kicked and screamed but he just laughed.

‘It’s no use calling out for help. That’s one thing about posh neighbours. They don’t come in without an invitation. So you might as well give in and do as I tell you.’

‘Your mother will be back soon.’ She tried to fend him off. ‘She won’t want you to do this.’

‘She’s going to be late today, won’t be back for over an hour yet. And even if you tell her, she won’t believe I forced you, so it’ll be no good complaining to her. Anyway, it’ll be too late by then. I’ll have had you and no one else will want you after that.’

He was panting now, trying to get her clothes off, hurting her, laughing at her efforts to escape.

‘We’ll be doing this quite often from now on,’ he said, pulling down her knickers. ‘You’ll soon get used to it.’

Nothing she did stopped him. Once she managed to bite his hand, but he slapped her so hard she felt dizzy for a minute or two.

By that time he had her knickers right off and was groping
at her private parts, his rough fingers hurting her tender skin.

She didn’t stop screaming or struggling, but he laughed and started to undo his trousers.

Then they both jumped in shock as dirty water and potatoes cascaded down on them.

‘
What the hell do you think you’re doing, Norris Harding
?’ Winifred screeched.

‘She was asking for it,’ Norris said at once. ‘Rubbing herself against me. I’m only human.’

Harriet scrabbled away from him, burning with shame, unable to stop sobbing.

‘You must think I’m a fool.’ Winifred raised her late husband’s walking stick. It whistled through the air and caught Norris across the face. Again and again his mother beat him about the head and shoulders. He made no attempt to do anything but protect his face with his hands.

‘You’ll not do that again in my house,’ Winifred said. ‘Whether the girl is willing or not.’

By this time he was cowering in a corner, begging her to stop, blood oozing from the weals on his neck and hands from where the stick had slashed him.

The beating ended as abruptly as it had begun. Winifred stood staring at her son, panting with the effort, the walking stick quivering in her raised hand.

He made a movement as if to get away and the stick was levelled with his chin. He froze, staring at her.

‘Go to your bedroom and stay there till I tell you to come out.’ She stepped back.

He got to his feet and ran from the room, speeded on his way with a final slash to his backside that had him yelling in pain.

Then Winifred turned to Harriet, who had scrambled into her knickers and was standing in the scullery doorway, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.

The silence went on for so long that Harriet wondered if she should run out of the house while she could and take refuge with Mr Prentice. Winifred was studying her as if she’d never seen her before.

What she did say was quite unexpected. ‘You’re going to be quite pretty when you’ve grown into your body, young lady, and my Norris is like his father. I hadn’t taken that into account. They want a woman more often than most, them Hardings do. Randy devils, all of them. Your father was a bit like that, too.’

Harriet dared say, ‘I didn’t encourage Norris, Winifred. I’d never, ever do that.’

‘I believe you, because I saw with my own eyes how hard you were fighting. Go for the eyes next time someone attacks you. Try to scratch them out.’

Silence again. More assessing looks, then Winifred gestured to the scullery. ‘Go an’ wash your face, then come and sit down. I need to have a think.’

When Harriet came back, Winifred said, ‘Brew us a pot of tea.’

She did as she was asked, then waited, filled with dread, her stomach lurching every time Winifred moved.

‘Well, sit down. An’ get yourself a cup.’

But the teapot wobbled when Harriet tried to pick it up.

‘Give me that.’ Winifred poured them both some tea, then sipped hers thoughtfully. ‘I’m not giving up your wages,’ she said at last.

‘But I can’t—’

‘Quiet. I’ll do the talking.’

She drank, frowning in thought, then poured herself another cup of tea, tipping some into the saucer to cool it quickly, then leant back, studying her stepdaughter as if she’d never seen her before. ‘You talk more posh than I do.’

Harriet didn’t know what to make of that remark.

‘An’ you know a lot of useless stuff too, like the gentry. Book learning and such. James said your mother’s family were a bit fancy, didn’t want her to marry him.’

The silence was broken only by the ticking of the clock till Winifred set down her empty cup. ‘Ah. That was good. Nothing like tea for helping you think. Go an’ pack your clothes. You can take your mother’s suitcase off the top of my wardrobe. Pack every single thing you’ve got into it.’

‘My books too?’

Winifred looked at her in exasperation. ‘You and your damned books. All right. Take them. They’re not worth much. Take everything you want. You’ll not be coming back. I’m going to be renting your room out.’

‘But where am I—?’

‘Just do as you’re told.’ She went to the foot of the stairs and yelled, ‘Norris! Down here.’

He came running down, scowling at Harriet, who moved along the hall and waited for him to pass before she went upstairs.

She got the suitcase down and began to pack, terrified of what would happen to her now. Where was she going? Surely Winifred wasn’t going to put her in the workhouse?