Whispers (16 page)

Jess shuddered as she closed the book. Poor Martha must have been terrified of her unscrupulous Master. And poor Grace, to be used like that and to be forced to carry his child . . .

Her sombre thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone
crying.
Thinking that it must be Mel, she hurried towards the girl’s bedroom door, but the only sound she could hear from within was the Black-Eyed Peas. Glancing towards the door at the end of the corridor, she slowly went and opened it, then began to climb the stairs with her heart in her mouth. Once outside Martha’s room she stood completely still as the sound of someone sobbing broken-heartedly floated around her. Every hair on her body was standing to attention, but she gripped the door handle and threw the door open before she could change her mind and run back the way she had come, which every instinct she had was telling her to do.

The noise stopped abruptly and she found herself staring into an empty room. And yet someone
had
been crying in there. She would have staked her life on it.

Cautiously she stepped inside, her eyes focused on the narrow wooden bed. It was bitterly cold in here, and she wondered how Martha had stood it. But then she knew that back in the early 1800s there had been no central heating, so she would probably have been used to it.

‘Oh Martha, I’m so sorry for what you had to go through,’ she whispered to the empty room and then moving through the scent of roses, she gently closed the door and went back downstairs.

Later that day, it suddenly hit Jess how little Simon had said to Mel about running away when the police had returned her home the evening before. Whilst they had been waiting for news he had been full of what he was planning to do to her when she got back. And yet when she did, he had actually said nothing at all. It was almost Mel’s birthday. Perhaps she could organise something special for that? Something that would bring her daughter out of the depression into which she seemed to have sunk.

‘What do you think? Any suggestions?’ she asked Jo who was sitting at the kitchen table doing her homework.

‘How about a weekend away somewhere?’ the younger girl said.

Jess grinned. ‘Do you know, that might be a good idea. Anywhere in particular?’

Jo tapped her top lip thoughtfully with her forefinger. Then: ‘How about Paris?’

‘Paris!’ Jess was so shocked that she almost choked. Their holiday venues up to now had stretched to Yarmouth, Skegness and Blackpool, and even then the trips had been few and far between because the summer was the busiest time for Simon.

Seeing her mother’s reaction, Jo chuckled. ‘I’m not suggesting going to the moon, Mum.’

‘I know – but Paris! Why, I’ve never even been on a plane.’

‘Then it’s time you did,’ Jo said matter-of-factly. ‘I reckon it would cheer Mel up no end and I’d love to see the Eiffel Tower. Kirsty at school went with her mum and dad a few weeks ago and she said it was wicked.’

‘Right . . . well, I’ll have a think about it,’ Jess said doubtfully, ‘but don’t go mentioning it to your sister just yet until I’ve had time to run the idea by your dad, eh?’

‘All right.’ Jo settled back in her seat to read the magazine she had just taken from her schoolbag as Jess mulled the idea of the impromptu break over in her mind.

Simon was late home again that evening. Jess was getting used to it by now and although she knew that he was busy, she still found it annoying. When they had first moved in he had made a conscious effort to arrive home at a reasonable hour, so they could all have some quality family time together, but all his good intentions seemed to be flying out of the window again now.

Determined not to start an argument she put his meal in the microwave and said casually, ‘Jo thought it might be a good idea if we had a weekend away for Mel’s birthday.’

He snorted with derision as he pulled his workboots off. ‘Huh! Fat chance of that happening with the amount of work I’ve got on. And anyway, should we really reward bad behaviour? She did run away, in case you’d forgotten.’

‘Firstly, if she ran away there has to be a reason. I don’t consider it was bad behaviour. Something is troubling her and if we’re away from home she might be more willing to talk about it. Secondly, I am quite aware of how busy you are so if you don’t want to come I shall take the girls myself. I think a change of scene would do them good. We’ve been so busy on the house I worry that we haven’t spent enough time with them lately.’

Simon rolled his eyes. ‘
You
take them away?’

‘Yes,
me
.’ Jess’s chin tilted indignantly. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after our daughters for a few days.’

‘Of course you are, and you have your own house too, don’t you.’

Ignoring the spite in his voice she rushed on, ‘There’s no need to be like that, Simon. I’m just trying to make some sense of what’s happening here. Mel isn’t even fourteen yet but she looks like she’s got the weight of the world on her shoulders.’

‘And just where were you thinking of taking them? Blackpool, Skegness?’

‘Er . . . actually Jo suggested Paris.’

Simon sputtered a mouthful of tea all over the table. ‘
Paris
, did you say? But you don’t even have passports!’

‘So, I can get them,’ she retorted haughtily. ‘I’m not completely useless, you know. We could fly from Birmingham and be there in a couple of hours or so.’

He shook his head, clearly unhappy about the whole idea. ‘I think you should wait until we can all go away as a family. I don’t believe in couples having separate holidays.’

‘Then I’m sorry to hear it, but I think I should tell you I intend to
take
the girls whether you like it or not. Of course, it would be wonderful if you could somehow manage to come with us, but we’re going, come hell or high water, so you’d better get used to the idea. I intend to get the passport applications from the post office first thing in the morning and fill them in. Shall I pick one up for you?’

Simon pushed away the meal she had just put in front of him. Jess was certainly spreading her wings now and he didn’t like it one bit. She had always been so biddable before. ‘No, you needn’t bother,’ he ground out, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘Some of us have to work, in case you’d forgotten.’ And with that he slammed out of the kitchen.

Biting down the urge to cry, Jess lifted his meal and scraped it into the bin. She’d had an idea that Simon wouldn’t be too happy about their plan but she hadn’t expected him to react quite so violently. Anyone would think she’d told him that she was going to leave him for good, the way he was going on.

She hastily followed him upstairs, but after a quick glance into their room she saw that he wasn’t there so she moved further along the landing. Approaching Mel’s bedroom, she heard the sound of muffled sobs and flinging the door open, she saw the girl curled on the bed as her father towered threateningly over her.

‘What’s going on here?’ she demanded.

‘I was just trying to find out why she pulled that stupid stunt and almost scared us to death last night,’ Simon retaliated. ‘Somebody’s got to get to the bottom of it. You’re just pussyfooting about and making things worse.’

Without waiting for her to answer he then pushed past her with a face like a thundercloud and disappeared off down the landing as Jess hurried over to Melanie. ‘Are you all right, love?’ she asked as she wiped the limp hair from her daughter’s damp brow.

‘Y . . . yes,’ Mel sniffed.

Unsure of what to do or say, Jess backed towards the door. ‘Well, I’m here if there’s anything you want to talk to me about.’ She closed the door softly behind her feeling more useless than she had ever felt in her life. Simon had just gone and made things worse now with his bull in a china shop attempts to find out what was troubling the girl. But then that was Simon all over. Tact had never been one of his strong points.

She followed him to their own room where she found him climbing into clean jeans and a sweatshirt.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘Out!’ he informed her shortly. ‘And expect me when you see me.’ And with that he marched past her and seconds later she heard him thudding down the stairs. Wearily, Jess sank onto the edge of the bed and after a moment or two she looked towards the sketch of the girl on the wall.

‘Oh, Martha,’ she whispered. ‘Everything seems to be falling apart and I’m not sure what I can do about it.’ She heard the Land Rover roar out of the courtyard. No doubt Simon would clear off now and get legless with his pals, or worse still, he might find solace in the arms of another woman. Either way there was nothing she could do about it – and she realised with a little shock that right at this minute she didn’t much care.

Later that evening, when both the girls were fast asleep, Jess once again went up to Martha’s room in the attic. The peace of the place calmed her as she sank down onto the side of the bed. She could understand why Martha had liked this room for all it was sparsely furnished and cold. She could imagine her lying here, writing in her journal by the light of a candle. And after all, the poor girl had had far more to put up with than she had. Jess had taken her anger and frustration out on an enormous pile of ironing and now she just wished that Simon would come home so that they could talk and hopefully put things right between them. Her gran had always told her that a married couple should never go to sleep on an argument, and it was a piece of excellent advice that Jess had always tried to live by.

‘Goodnight,’ she whispered as she left the room and went down the attic stairs to her own room, to undress, jump into bed and return to Martha’s journal.

3 October

We were all in the kitchen having a cup of tea this afternoon before starting preparations for the Master’s evening meal when Bertie entered with a face like thunder, not that this is a rarity nowadays . . .

‘I were just talking to Farmer Codd while I were down in the lower field an’ he reckons he’s heard on the wind that the Master’s mill is in serious financial trouble,’ he told them.

‘Aye, well happen it were only a matter o’ time,’ Granny muttered philosophically.

Grace stroked her swollen stomach fearfully. Her baby was due in January and she had been praying that they would still have a home when it was born. But now this latest news made them all wonder.

Granny suddenly began to cough, a deep wracking cough that had them all looking towards her. It had come on her some weeks ago and she couldn’t seem to shift it, much to Martha’s concern. She saw the old woman cough into a piece of muslin she took from her apron pocket and, hoping that none of them was still looking, she flung it hastily into the heart of the fire – but not before Martha had seen the smear of blood on it.

It was then that the door opened and Hal Tolley appeared, his shoulders stooped. He quickly took his cap off and nodded towards Granny respectfully before telling them, ‘The Master just called into the cottage to see us an’ he’s given us notice to quit.’

‘Aw, lad, no.’ Granny sighed loudly. ‘An’ just when I were thinkin’ things couldn’t get no worse an’ all. When do yer ’ave to be out?’

‘End of the week,’ Hal replied dismally. ‘Though God knows where we’ll go. One thing’s fer sure, I’ll take to the open road afore I’ll let me family go into the workhouse.’

They were saved from replying when the sound of a horse and carriage reached them. Seconds later the great brass knocker on the front door reverberated through the house.

‘Grace, change yer apron quick an’ go an’ see who it is,’ Granny ordered.

Grace quickly took off her great bibbed work apron and slipped on the white linen one that she wore for waiting on table before she hurried off to do as she was told. Minutes later she was back with a face whiter than her apron. ‘It’s the bailiffs,’ she told them in a low voice. ‘They had an official paper from the magistrate and they said they’ve come to do an inventory of all the furniture an’ silverware. I told ’em the Master weren’t at home but they just barged right in. What shall I do?’

‘Ain’t nothin’ yer can do,’ Granny replied with a toss of her head. ‘Eeh, who’d ’ave thought it would come to this, eh?’

Bertie rose from his seat after slamming his fist on the table so hard that the teapot danced across it, then commenced walking up and down the room like a bear with a sore head.

‘It’s just a matter o’ time afore we’re all chucked out on us ears an’ all now,’ he muttered to no one in particular.

Unable to listen to any more, Martha fled to the sanctuary of the
barn
where she perched on a hale bale, rocking herself to and fro. The thought of having nowhere to live and no job was daunting, but the atmosphere in the house was such that she wondered if it wouldn’t in fact, be preferable. One thing was for sure, things certainly couldn’t get any worse. The pantry was empty, as was the cellar, and the evening before, when Grace had served the Master with vegetable soup for his dinner he had flung it up the wall and roared at her, ‘What sort of meal do you call
this
to lay before a working man?’

‘The pantry is sadly depleted, sir, an’ no one will let us have any more supplies till the bills are settled,’ Grace had whispered fearfully.

‘Get out! You’re all bloody useless! Do you hear me? GET OUT!’

Poor Grace had arrived back in the kitchen in a right old tizzy and once again Granny had had to stop Bertie from going in and knocking the Master’s block off.

But now it seemed that none of them would have to put up with the Master’s tantrums for much longer . . .

10 October

We were all going about our business this morning in a melancholy frame of mind when a splendid horse and carriage drawn by four matching black stallions drew to a halt outside. The Master had told us to expect his nephew and his wife and we could only assume that this was them arriving . . .

‘Hasten away an’ let ’em in, our Grace,’ Granny urged, suddenly all of a dither. Hal Tolley had called in at the Anker Inn the evening before to drown his sorrows and had heard talk that Leonard Fenton, the Master’s nephew, had been called upon to help him out of his dire financial situation. They could only pray that the rumours were true.