Calico Road (4 page)

As he got near the place where he worked he threw back his head and laughed, jeering laughter so harsh he quickly clamped his mouth shut to keep it back.
Make something of it. Make me and your mother proud of you
, John Greenhalgh had said. Well, to hell with that! Toby didn’t intend to dance to the old devil’s tune. He’d make no one proud unless it suited him to do so.

If his mother had lived it might have been different, because he’d have wanted to make
her
proud of him, not to mention earning enough to buy her every comfort possible. But she was dead, so he’d do as he pleased now, thank you very much, John Greenhalgh.

And the condition attached to the gift made no difference. Why would his half-brother want a free drink of beer every January? It didn’t make sense for a man as rich as Jethro Greenhalgh would be once his father John died. Any road, Toby doubted his half-brother would bother to ride all that way to claim his beer, and even if he did, the arrogant sod would wait his turn to be served like any other customer.

When Toby had left the room, John gestured to his manservant to leave too and beckoned his son closer to the bed. ‘That should get him out of your way. Calico is a good two hours’ walk from Backenshaw.’

Jethro shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but as I said when we discussed it last time, I’d have preferred to get him right out of the country. Up on the moors isn’t far enough.’ Not when the two of them looked so much alike. He’d hated that since he’d first seen Fletcher in the street years before and noticed people staring at them both – then gone home and examined his own face in the mirror again and again, finding it so like Fletcher’s he’d been shocked to the core.

‘I tried that . . . hired men to talk to him about Australia. They promised him a free passage and a good job when he arrived there, but he told them he’d never leave Lancashire.’ John paused, staring into the distance before adding, ‘And I found I’d no stomach for harming him, so that was that. Nor should you hurt him. He
is
your half-brother, after all.’

‘I know he’s my brother. That’s the problem. But you surely don’t think I’d harm him?’

‘Who knows? But I want your solemn promise that you’ll not hurt him in any way.’

‘Oh, really, Father. Is this necessary?’

‘I think so. Men can be pushed into doing things sometimes.’ John paused to stare into a past about which only he knew the full truth, then jerked back into the present to say sharply, ‘I not only want your promise that you’ll not harm him, but that you’ll not let him be harmed by anyone else either. I owe his mother that, at least.’

So Jethro gave his word, though it hadn’t been necessary. He wasn’t like his father, whose ruthlessness was a byword in the town.

‘And I want your promise that you’ll go up to Calico every year for that free pot of beer.’

Jethro stared at him, read determination in his father’s eyes and shrugged. ‘If you insist.’

‘I do. You’re to keep an eye on the place. And on Andrew Beardsworth. He’s too close to it. I don’t trust him. He knows too much, has too much to lose himself.’

As the silence whispered around them, broken only by hot coals settling in the grate and the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, Jethro asked suddenly, ‘Why the hell did you do it, Father? I’ve never understood that.’

John stared into the distance. ‘I’d no choice. Her brothers were threatening to kill me, had a knife to my throat. They meant it too. I was rather fond of living. Still am.’ His mocking laughter at his own vulnerability turned into another fit of coughing.

This time his son held him up for a sip of water then laid him down gently on the soft feather pillow. The old man had always controlled his life too tightly and had a far harsher way of dealing with the world than Jethro would choose, but he found himself regretting the loss he would soon suffer.

The husky voice whispered on. ‘The last of her brothers died only a few days ago. As far as I know, they all kept quiet about what had happened because I paid them well when my circumstances changed. Now, let’s forget about Tobias Fletcher. My conscience is clear. I’ve left him well provided for and I’ve arranged it so that he’ll leave Backenshaw as soon as I’m dead. I just want to live my last few weeks in peace.’

But he died the next night, passing away in his sleep.

One Sunday Meg took a deep breath and announced to her family that she was walking out with Ben Pearson that afternoon. After a stunned silence, Netta let out one of her angry cries and bounced to her feet.

‘I’ll not have it!’

‘How will you stop me – tie me down?’

Jack moved between them. ‘But Pearson’s older than you, love, years older.’

‘He’s been wed afore – he’ll be after only one thing from a lass,’ Netta sneered. ‘And he’s a boozer, too. You can never trust drunkards. I’m not having it. Jack, tell her not to go.’ When he said nothing she started weeping loudly, calling his name again and again.

Jack looked at his sister. ‘Why him, Meg?’

She hated to see that careworn air about him. Like her he was young, but unlike her he seemed resigned to living with their mother, being her support in a hard world, for he’d made no attempt to walk out with any of the lasses from the mill. ‘Because I want a life of my own, Jack. As you should. And because I like Ben. He’s kind.’

‘What about his drinking?’

‘He’s given it up.’

Netta laughed. ‘Hah! If you’ll believe that, you’ll believe anything. Once a boozer, allus a boozer.’

‘Ben hasn’t had a drink for weeks. I’ve checked. I wouldn’t walk out with him till I was sure.’ Meg went to cram the battered bonnet on her head, wishing she at least had new ribbons to trim it up. She heard her mother continue pleading with her brother to stop her walking out.

‘No, Mam, she has a right to a life of her own.’ Jack moved to stand between the two women.

‘You’ll be sorry, Meg Staley!’ Netta screeched as she left the house, so Meg slammed the door behind her as hard as she could, something her mother hated. As she walked along the street she heard the door open again and knew Netta would be standing on the doorstep watching. She didn’t turn round. Let her watch.

Ben was waiting for her at the corner. His face lit up at the sight of Meg and the hard angry lump inside her eased a little. He held out his arm and she took it, walking self-consciously up Weavers Lane with him, seeing people she knew staring at them. It’d be round the mill tomorrow: Meg Staley’s walking out with Ben Pearson.

They went slowly up the hill past the rich folk’s houses towards the moors and to her surprise she found herself enjoying his company. He spoke so gently to her and he’d even brought food for them wrapped in a clean cloth: new-baked bread and crumbly white cheese. When they sat on a wall to eat it, he told her again she was pretty, and though she shook her head at that, she knew she was at least looking her best.

‘Shall we walk out again next Sunday if it’s fine?’ he asked as they came back down the lane.

‘If you like.’

‘I’ll look forward to it. I’ll see you to your door.’

She stopped. ‘Better not. Mam’s up in arms about me walking out with you and she’ll only be rude.’

‘It’s better we do this openly. As long as
you
are kind to me, I don’t give a damn what your mother says.’

Which made her like him even more.

When Meg went into the house, her mother was waiting for her and slapped her face before she could say a word.

‘I’ll teach you to cheek me, you young devil. And whatever Jack says, you’re
not
going out with that fellow again.’

She raised her hand for another slap and Meg put up her own arm automatically to fend it off. Suddenly she had had enough of this sort of treatment. ‘If you ever hit me again,’ she shouted at the top of her voice, shoving her mother away so hard she bumped into a chair, ‘I’ll hit you right back.’ Then she turned and ran out of the house, doing without food and slipping into the tiny chapel lower down the lane when it started to rain. She didn’t go home until the service was over and then walked slowly back, knowing that at least her big brother would be there to protect her now.

Jack saw his sister come in and thought how tired she looked. The straw hat was bedraggled and Meg’s hair was hanging in damp rats’ tails down the sides of her face. When she raised a hand to brush it back, he saw the bruise on her cheek and knew their mother had been slapping her again. He’d tried to stop her hitting the children but in vain. She always turned it off with, ‘Aw, it’s only a slap or two. Keeps them in order.’

‘Mam said you came back once. Where did you go afterwards, Meg?’ he asked.

‘Out on my own.’

‘She’s been back with
him
again,’ Netta said. ‘She’ll come home with a babby in her belly at this rate an’ shame us all.’

Meg rounded on her mother. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong an’ I won’t. How can you even think that of me?’

Jack looked at her searchingly. ‘Promise me you won’t let him touch you.’

‘I’ll let him kiss me. Why not?’ He’d done that already, a shy, gentle kiss, which had thrilled him more than her. It was the cuddle that went with it that had pleased her most. ‘I won’t let him do the other thing to me till we’re wed, though.’

Netta bounced to her feet. ‘
Wed!
You can’t go getting wed. We need your wages here. Jack, tell her!’

He pulled his mother down beside him and kept hold of her arm.

Meg spoke to him because she could hardly bear to look at her mother. ‘She’s not tying me to her for life. I’d rather throw myself in the reservoir. An’ when I want to get wed, I shall.’

‘Not without my permission!’ Netta looked at her triumphantly. ‘At your age you can’t get wed unless I say so. Not till you’re twenty-one, you can’t. An’ I won’t let you.’

‘Then I’ll live in sin, big belly an’ all.’

Jack shook his mother’s arm slightly. ‘Stop this. She’s only walking out with him and she has a right to make friends. She wouldn’t have run out again if you hadn’t gone for her.’ He looked at his sister pleadingly. ‘Just take care, eh?’

Meg nodded, an unspoken promise to him. Then she looked at her mother, an angry glance that said just as clearly as words that she’d run her own life from now on.

When Netta burst into tears, Meg left Jack to comfort her and went upstairs to take off her best clothes, which were wet now. Ginny was still awake in the bed they shared and Shad whispered from the next room, ‘She’s been in hysterics since you left, our Meg.’

‘Let her. I don’t care.’

She hung the clothes on the nail in the wall then sat on the edge of the bed and tried hard not to weep. But though she stopped herself from sobbing aloud, she couldn’t prevent a few tears from escaping and trickling down her face. She couldn’t stand living like this much longer. She’d do anything to get away from her mother, anything!

Ginny reached out to pat her back and the touch comforted her.

‘Why is Mam like that?’ Meg asked, not waiting for an answer because there wasn’t any explanation for sheer bad temper. ‘She’s got Jack doing what she wants. Isn’t that enough for her? I tell you, I’m leaving home as soon as I can.’ She meant it, too.

3

T
oby made plans to go up to Calico Road on the following Sunday. He was reluctant to give up his job until he’d seen for himself that his father’s legacy would support him. For all he knew, the land he’d been given could be a barren patch of moorland and the inn a ruin or a tumble-down little alehouse. He was quite sure there was some hidden reason for the gift John Greenhalgh had made. He’d racked his brains about it, but couldn’t think what it might be. All he knew was: that man wouldn’t do anything out of sheer kindness or Toby’s mother would have had an easier life.

After some deliberation he felt obliged to attend his father’s funeral on the Friday. He was too tall to avoid being noticed among the crowd of tenants and employees following the hearse, but stayed at the rear and did nothing to draw attention to himself. Unfortunately Jethro Greenhalgh spotted him almost immediately and glared at him, after which he avoided looking in his direction again.

That same evening the rent man turned up and gave Toby a week’s notice to quit the cottage in which he’d lived since he was a baby.

‘And my instructions are to make sure you leave it in good order, just as you found it,’ the rent man finished.

Anger rose in Toby at the pettiness of this. ‘I’ll do just that, then, leave it
exactly
as my mother found it, bare of comfort except for the plank bed built into the alcove and the shelf over the fire.’

The other man looked round, frowning now. ‘What are you talking about? There are plenty of shelves and fixings here.’

‘Aye, because she and I made the place home-like. I put up most of these shelves myself with wood I got from work, and now I’ll be taking them all with me seeing as Mr Greenhalgh wants everything left as we found it.’ He hadn’t meant to remove them – what were a few old shelves? – but after this summary dismissal he’d not leave even the hooks by the door.

When the rent man had left, Toby stood for a few moments feeling pain well up inside him. To throw him out like this! And for what reason? He didn’t understand it, but he’d not forget what his damned half-brother had done.

Pulling himself together, he began methodically sorting through his possessions. Perhaps he’d find a thriving inn waiting for him. No, that wasn’t likely. Folk as money-mad as the Greenhalghs wouldn’t give something away unless it was near worthless. But if Toby could just win a living from the place, it would do him. He hadn’t been ambitious before, but now had a strong urge to show his half-brother what he could make of himself.

He went round to his employer’s house and explained the situation, arranging to stop work immediately and borrow the larger of Bob’s two carts and the horses to draw it on the Sunday. Bob was very indignant at his being thrown out of his home like that and refused to take payment for the cart.