The Mill Girls of Albion Lane (38 page)

‘That's true,' Margie acknowledged, relieved that her father hadn't risen up against her as soon as she set foot in the house. ‘It'll take time. Meanwhile, Arthur's happy with Granddad and me at Ada Street. He's doing well at school – his teacher's pleased with him.'

Out of sight on the bottom step of the stairs, Lily heard this and gave Arthur's hand a proud squeeze.

‘Miss Bilton has promised to keep a special eye on him for the next few weeks,' Margie told her father.

‘But he'll be coming back home soon, tell him,' Walter said with dogged determination. ‘Your mother wouldn't have wanted Arthur to stay up there for weeks on end. Albion Lane is where he belongs.' Raising his cigarette to his lips he took a long drag then exhaled a cloud of blue smoke. ‘I don't know about you, though, Margie. Where do you call home these days?'

Taken aback by the open-ended question, Margie leaned away from the table and stole a glance at Evie. Was this a hidden invitation from her father to return to the roost? Or was it a warning to stay away? ‘I'm in two minds about that,' she answered cautiously. ‘But I reckon I'm settled enough at Ada Street, for the time being at least.'

‘I see.' Walter stubbed out his cigarette with an air of finality and stood up to reach for his cap and scarf hanging on the door peg close to where Lily and Arthur sat. ‘Why not drop in here every so often to let your sisters check up on you?'

‘I will,' she replied, surprised but comforted by his words.

‘And we'll see how we go,' he said, making his way out on to the top step then pausing. ‘Find the lad a tanner,' he called out to Lily, then, ‘Come on, Arthur, I'll drop you off at Newby's on my way to the Cross.'

‘Old habits die hard,' Lily told Harry once they were settled at a table in the same grubby, impersonal prison visitors' room as before. ‘Father's always on at me for small change. If it's not for beer money, it's pocket money for Arthur.'

‘And you're soft enough to give it, come rain or shine.' Harry hoped that he hadn't revealed the usual struggle to find a cheerful response. He was still determined that Lily shouldn't know what hell he was going through, day in, day out, sharing a cell with two other men who were also due to stand trial for murder – one for killing his wife with a claw hammer after he'd arrived home drunk one night, the other for agreeing to snuff out the life of a rival gang member for the princely sum of five pounds ten shillings. Until now Harry had considered himself streetwise and handy with his fists, but these two cell mates were in an altogether different league, brooding on their bunk beds like ticking bombs waiting to go off.

‘I wouldn't mind but every penny counts now that everyone at Calvert's has been put on short time.' The words were out of her mouth before Lily had time to calculate their depressing effect.

‘Everyone?' Harry echoed. Even after this short time in prison, it was hard to take in the idea that life on the outside, with all its ups and downs, went on regardless. He felt stranded and hopelessly out of touch, unable to do much more than simply gaze at Lily and notice every detail about her face, her hair, her clothes and that fresh-soap smell she carried with her.

‘Yes but Annie, Sybil and me, we're taking in more dressmaking work to make up for it. They're out scouting for business while I'm here visiting you. Anyway, that's enough about me. We have to talk about you, Harry.'

‘What is there to say?' he replied. ‘All I've heard is the police found some scraps of metal at the house that don't belong to Billy's bike or the Calverts' car, but that doesn't get us very far. Otherwise, nothing changes in here.' Except that the day for his trial grew closer and the man appointed to represent him had visited Armley to warn him that without firm evidence on which to build his case, the prospects were not good. Harry had decided not to tell Lily this, though.

‘But you haven't given up hope?' Lily asked. ‘You look so down in the mouth, I'm afraid you have.'

‘No,' he lied.

‘Is it very bad in here?'

‘I've kept better company.'

‘But they do let you out of your cell to work in the library like they promised?'

He nodded. ‘Yes and I'm reading a book about Henry Ford and how he built the first mass-production line in America. They say that's the future.'

For a while Lily let the conversation drift – if talking about cars was what Harry wanted, then let him. But time was precious and as usual they were in danger of skirting around some important topics, so with five minutes to go before the end of visiting time, she dragged him back to Billy's death. ‘I want to ask you a question,' she began.

‘Don't make it too hard,' he warned. ‘I didn't pass many exams, remember.'

‘Harry, I'm serious. Tell me, what was the reason Billy cycled up to Moor House that day?'

‘Search me.' Harry shrugged. ‘Why did Billy do anything? It was whatever came into his head, or else he was doing as he was told in order to keep hold of his job.'

‘All right, well, here's another question that's been bothering me ever since Vera and Jennie first raised it.'

‘What's that?' he asked more sharply.

‘I'd have followed it up earlier, only Mr Calvert announced he was cutting our hours and everyone's mind was stuck on that.'

‘Come on then, spit it out.'

‘It's this: was there any reason why someone should hold a grudge against Billy – something I don't know about?'

‘Lily …' he protested.

‘Think hard,' she insisted. ‘Had he done anything wrong? Was he involved in a fight that festered and could have got out of hand – that kind of thing?'

‘Lily!' Harry said more strongly. ‘We could go on guessing as much as you like but what's the use?'

‘We don't have much time and at least this is better than sitting on our hands, Harry. Or would you rather I did that?'

‘No,' he muttered, bringing a hand up to cover his face.

‘Because I could. I could do nothing and wait for it to happen – you coming up before the judge without anyone standing up for you and letting them say you did it, you killed Billy, and you having to answer for that …' The shadow of the noose appeared in her mind's eye and words failed her.

As warders began to clear the room, Harry met Lily's gaze once more and she gathered herself, making ready to leave.

‘Thank you for trying your best,' he murmured. ‘I don't know what I'd do without you, honest I don't.'

Lily smiled bravely back. She would be strong for his sake, she reminded herself. And so she stood up and embraced him in front of unsmiling men in uniforms, kissing him on the lips to show him she loved him and would never let him down.

Both as good as their word, Sybil and Annie went around the neighbourhood that afternoon and brought in more sewing work so that by the next morning they arrived at Lily's house armed with a request for a baby's christening gown and two orders for girls' dresses to be made up from rosebud-patterned cotton poplin in good time for the Whitsuntide gala on Overcliffe Common.

‘We're quite the little hive of industry,' Annie said with satisfaction as they each took up a task.

Patterns were laid out, spools loaded on to the sewing machine, boxes of pins, needles and threads placed at the ready. They were too busy to take much notice of Walter when he came downstairs and went out into the foggy air but glad to stop for five minutes when Evie came back from delivering Sunday papers and offered to put the kettle on for a cup of tea.

‘It's about time we had a breather!' Sybil announced, taking care not to set down her tea anywhere near the floral fabric. Her face was flushed from the fire, the sleeves of her dark red blouse rolled up above her elbows.

‘And who's this?' Annie wondered when she heard footsteps stop outside the house. She twitched back the net curtain to see the sturdy figure of Jennie Shaw waiting on the doorstep. ‘Do you want me to let her in?' she said to Lily.

There was no time for an answer because Jennie gave a sharp knock then entered without waiting to be asked, saying, ‘Well I never – cups of tea all round. I couldn't have timed it better if I'd tried.'

‘Come in, Jennie, why don't you?' Sybil's exaggerated politeness bounced off the visitor's well-upholstered bosom.

‘Yes, come in and sit yourself down.' Lily cleared pieces of paper pattern from the fireside chair. ‘Have you come to talk to us about Billy?'

The question changed the mood in the busy kitchen. ‘What about Billy?' Annie wanted to know, while Sybil leaned on the mantelpiece and waited with a serious expression to hear what Jennie had to say.

‘I was trying to talk to Lily about him before Stanley Calvert dropped his bombshell,' Jennie explained. ‘Afterwards I didn't get the chance so when I found I had ten minutes to spare, I thought I'd nip round here and pass on what I meant to tell you yesterday.'

‘That's good of you,' Lily told her as calmly as she could.

‘But we're still waiting,' Annie pointed out. ‘Come on, Jennie, no need to make a meal of it.'

‘Right – Billy.' Once she'd eased herself into the chair, rested her hands in her broad lap and accepted a cup of tea from Evie, Jennie was ready to continue. ‘You asked me, Lily, if he had any enemies but if I were you I'd be asking myself a different question.'

‘Good Lord above, woman!' Annie exclaimed. ‘Shall I nip around the block for a breath of fresh air and come back when you're ready to spill the beans?'

‘What should we be asking?' Sybil met Jennie's challenge steadily.

‘It's this: was Billy walking out with someone in the weeks before he got run over?'

‘And was he?' Lily and Annie chorused.

‘We know he was,' Sybil reminded them. ‘The two of them were seen in town together, remember? That's why I decided to drop him double-quick.'

A knowing look and a nod from Jennie told them that they were in for an especially juicy piece of gossip, still to be delivered in her own good time. ‘They probably hoped no one noticed their little, lovey-dovey assignation but you know what it's like round here – word soon got around. And here's something else for you to chew over. What if that someone he was walking out with belonged to a family who thought their daughter could do better for herself? Wouldn't that be the best way for Billy to stir up trouble?'

‘This is all very well,' Sybil interrupted crossly, ‘but you're not naming names.'

‘Yes and if this turns out to be silly tittle-tattle, you'll get the sharp end of my tongue for wasting our time,' Annie added.

But Lily, who was standing by the window, shook her head. ‘Jennie doesn't need to name names. We can work it out for ourselves.'

In fact, the answer, when it came to her, was clear as day. Who never came back to work after Billy died? Who walked behind his hearse with a face as white as a sheet behind her lace veil and was later seen weeping at the cemetery gate?

‘There, I always knew you were a clever girl,' Jennie said as she saw the truth dawn on Lily.

‘Billy was walking out with Winifred Calvert behind her parents' backs,' Lily said with deep certainty. ‘She was the reason he nipped up to Moor House on the day he died.'

Suddenly everything made sense. Winifred had been Billy's sweetheart – a romantic pairing that had to be hidden from sight to avoid Mr and Mrs Calvert's wrath.

‘Never!' Annie gasped, turning open-mouthed to Sybil then to Jennie for confirmation.

Satisfied that her mission was accomplished, Jennie nodded and handed her empty cup to Evie. ‘I'll say cheerio,' were her parting words. ‘Now it's up to you girls to make what you can of Winifred's little secret.'

‘But did Mr and Mrs Calvert know anything about it?' Annie wondered as soon as their visitor had left. ‘Winifred and Billy would do their best to keep it from them, wouldn't they?'

‘If they had any sense, they would,' Sybil agreed.

‘It's Winifred we need to talk to again,' Lily decided, eager to take the lead in their new mission to wrestle the truth out of the boss's daughter, whether she liked it or not. She quickly began to tidy away her sewing things, thinking all the while how this might be achieved.

‘But it's Billy I feel for,' Evie decided. ‘He must have loved her more than anything to risk the Calverts finding out. They'd have sacked him on the spot for a start.'

‘Yes, it's not easy to work up any sympathy for Winifred,' Sybil agreed as she folded fabric and put the top on her tin of sewing pins. ‘There's only you, Lily, who has a soft spot for Miss Snooty.'

‘No,' soft-hearted Evie argued. ‘There's me too. I feel for them both.' She couldn't help thinking of how badly it had ended and what Winifred Calvert must have suffered since.

‘We're all agreed on one thing,' Lily reminded them as they reached for their coats. ‘What we have to do now is find Winifred, pin her down and get to the bottom of it. If we hurry, we'll be in time to meet her and Mr and Mrs Calvert coming out of St Luke's.'

It was a quarter to eleven. The Sunday service finished on the hour and it was assumed that the respectable Calverts would be following their routine of attending church like the good Anglicans they were. Now was the time to find out the truth.

Anyone watching from a distance would have seen four determined young women almost running up the steep hill on to Overcliffe Road through a lingering fog that dampened their hair and prevented them from seeing more than twenty yards ahead. Lily led the way, her coat hanging open and with no hat on her head, all thoughts fixed on squeezing the truth out of Winifred Calvert. Had she arranged a tryst with Billy in the garden of Moor House? Had someone found them out and, if so, what exactly had happened next?