For a Mother's Sins (26 page)

‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .’ The vicar peered over his prayer book at the grieving family. The youngest member was screaming its head off in protest at the passing of a
grandmother it had never known. One by one, Rose Pratt’s nearest and dearest sprinkled soil on her coffin and paid their respects. If the iron-willed Rose Pratt had succumbed to illness, the
poorer shanty dwellers, many of whom were malnourished and lived in squalid conditions, would stand no chance.

‘Thank you, Vicar. That was a good service.’ Jim Pratt came across and shook the vicar’s hand. ‘You’re welcome to join us for a bite to eat up at Gearstones. My lad
and his wife have laid a tea on.’

The vicar shook his hand and murmured a noncommittal response. Jim Pratt was a good man who had been dealt a hard deal in life, but Gearstones was not a place the vicar would frequent if he
could avoid it.

Jim hoisted himself up into the back of the gig and took the seat opposite John. Jenny, who was sitting with his granddaughter fast asleep in her lap, smiled and put her free arm around him. Jim
smiled back at her. Mike’s wife was a good lass; Rose should have given her a chance. But then, that had always been Rose’s way. If you weren’t one of hers then you were
lacking.

Mike urged the horses into action and they set off. As they passed the Welcome Inn, they saw the doctor heading through the door. Since he wasn’t the sort to drink there, they assumed
he’d been summoned to attend to some poor soul who’d had a few too many and got into a fight. It was a regular enough occurrence at Henry Parker’s establishment.

Their route took them onward, past the shanty town at Ribblehead and the viaduct spanning Batty Moss, until finally they came in sight of Gearstones, the sprawling group of houses and the
infamous doss-house that Rose had visited once in her life and sworn she would never return to.

‘Come on, lass, let me help you down – that bairn needs her cot.’ Jim held his hand out to help his daughter-in-law down.

‘No you don’t! I’ll help her, Father.’ John jumped down quickly and eased his father aside. ‘Get yourself in, Pa. The front door’s that middle one.’
John pointed at the largest of the doors in the imposing square house that backed on to the rough track over to Hawes. He lifted Jenny down and followed his father in, while Mike took the horse and
trap down the bank to the stables.

‘It’s good of your family to do this for me,’ Jim told Jenny as he waved her to go in first. ‘You’ll have to let me know how much I owe them.’

‘You owe them nothing. We won’t take it, even if you offer.’ Jenny opened the door to reveal a beautiful hallway, lavishly decorated and immaculately clean.

Jim stared in wonder at the home that Rose had declared a den of iniquity. ‘Your home’s bonny. I thought you took boarders and sold ale in here.’ Jim couldn’t stop
himself.

‘Only down at the doss-house, where you came last time, and the ale house next door to it. This is our family home. I can’t think of anything worse than having to live over the ale
house!’ Jenny untied her hat and hung it on the hall stand before walking into the parlour and laying the baby down in her crib.

The parlour was richly decorated and from the windows you could see right down the valley, with the new extending towards the huge peak of Pen-y-ghent in the distance. Jim could only imagine
what Rose would have said if she’d known she was missing all this! A den of iniquity indeed! Clearly the Burton family lived well, for all their rough manners at the wedding.

‘My brothers and parents will join us shortly. Don’t worry, they’ll be right with you. The only reason they were unreasonable with Mike was that they were frightened he
wouldn’t stand by me. They were just being overprotective. I’m their baby sister and they wanted to make sure I was taken care of. Now they’ve gotten to know him, they think Mike
is a grand fella, one of the family. And they all dote on this bundle of trouble.’ Jenny rocked the cradle gently. ‘Keep an eye on her for me, will you? I want to make sure
everything’s ready.’

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Jim turned to John. ‘Did you know they lived like this?’

‘Aye. Our Mike landed on his feet when he married Jenny. The doss-house is rough, but I always knew the Burtons were worth a bob or two.’ John grinned at his father’s
expression.

‘Your mother must be turning in her grave with envy! She’d no idea, else she’d have been coming up here every day, just to look at the carpet and wall coverings.’ Jim sat
down in one of the comfortable chairs and gazed out of the window at Ribblesdale.

‘That’s why I didn’t tell her. She should have taken the time to get to know people before judging them. It was a fault of my mother’s.’

Mike caught the last sentence as he came into the room. ‘I know I shouldn’t talk ill of her now she’s in her grave,’ he said, ‘but she certainly liked to control us
all. And John’s right: she always did judge folk before getting to know them. Jenny’s family own all the buildings you can see and most of the land up to Dent Head. Mind, it
wasn’t her money I was after, it was Jenny. If me ma hadn’t been too blind to see how much I loved Jenny, I’d have invited you up here instead of to the doss-house, but the way
she was carrying on made me so angry . . .’ Mike sat down next to his father. ‘Well, it’s all water under the bridge now. The Burtons have laid out a cold tea for you and
I’m to ask whether you both want to stop the night. I know it’s not far to go back home, but we’d like you to stay.’ Mike patted his father’s hand while John stood
behind his chair.

‘Nay, lad, I’m not stopping. I’ve something to do before this day’s over – another thing that your mother, God rest her soul, interfered in.’ Jim twiddled his
gold watch chain, a treasured possession he’d inherited from his father. ‘I might as well tell you now, lads, while I’ve got you both together. I’m going back to Durham.
There’s nothing left for me here and you two are big enough to look after yourselves. Besides I can’t live through another smallpox outbreak – I’ve too many memories of the
last one. I just pray none of you catch it.’

John and Mike nodded. Neither of them wanted to see their father go, but it was obvious he was heartbroken. The last week had aged him and all his fight had gone. Without his Rose, he was
lost.

‘We understand, Father,’ said John. ‘We’re both big enough and old enough to look after ourselves. But are you sure you’ll be all right?’

‘Aye, lad, I’ll be grand. I’m going to lodge with your aunty Margaret, if she’ll have me. It’s where I should be now, helping out my older sister. She was good to
me when we lost our mother. Now we’re both widowed, we can help one another. I’ve been thinking about her, having to manage on her own since her husband died last year. Well, now I can
do something about it.’

‘We’ll send you some money every so often, Father. It’s the least we can do,’ said Mike.

‘I don’t want any of your brass, lad. You have enough on your hands with this bonny little thing – and you never know, she might be the first of many. And you, our John, you
need to look after that Molly and her little lass – although she’s not that little nowadays. Moll’s a good woman. A bit rough around the edges, but that’s what you need
standing alongside you in this hard world.’ Jim’s eyes filled with tears that he tried to hold back.

The drawing-room door opened and Jenny stuck her head in. ‘Come through, you three. The tea table’s set and there’s some folk walked up from the funeral and Ribblehead to pay
their respects. She was a popular lady, was Rose.’

Urged on by Jenny, they went through to the dining room, which was full of mourners and members of the Burton family. Spread out on a huge table was a funeral feast the likes of which Jim had
never seen.

‘Aye, lass, you’ve done us proud,’ said Jim, tears rolling down his cheeks as he hugged his daughter-in-law.

‘It’s nothing, you’re my family.’ Jenny kissed him on the cheek.

‘If only Rose was here to see it.’ Jim’s voice trailed off, realizing the irony of his words.

‘She is. She’s up there, looking down – and probably kicking herself for missing her own funeral tea.’ Jenny squeezed her father-in-law’s hand and led him through
the throng of mourners to the feast.

‘Is your mother in, lass?’ Jim shouted through the hut door.

He was still warm after the exertion of walking all the way from Gearstones, but as soon as he stopped he could feel the cold beginning to creep in through his gloveless fingers.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Pratt, Mam says I can’t open the door to anyone when she’s not here, and she’s at the hospital.’

‘Never mind, lass. I’ll catch her tomorrow. You keep that door shut – your mother’s right, keep safe.’ Jim walked back to his empty hut alone. He’d left John
behind having a drink in the ale house. Rose had been right: it was full of Irish navvies, the worse for drink – a completely different world from the Burtons’ home. Still, if that was
how they wanted to make their money, let a better man than him tell them that they were wrong. He bent down and lit the stove and put the old black kettle on it to boil, pulling up the Windsor
chair that Rose had insisted she had to have brought down with them from Durham. He smiled as he ran his hand lovingly over the highly polished chair arm, remembering when they had bought it
together and how he’d scrimped and saved to purchase it. She always did want the best.

He closed his eyes, thoughts of his Rose going through his mind, remembering days when they were courting, how bonny she was, her eyes twinkling as she kissed him. Knowing how wickedly she was
leading him on as they frolicked in the hay loft at her father’s farm.

‘Come on then, what you waiting for?’ her voice called to him and her laughter bewitched him – a faraway laughter, mocking but urging him to follow. And there she was, holding
her hand out to him, surrounded by flowers in a beautiful daisy-filled meadow, exactly how he remembered her. Nay, he must be dreaming . . . but no, she called again.

‘Come on, Jim, it’s lovely here. There’s nothing left for you there.’ Her beaming smile drew him towards her, and she flirtatiously tossed the long blonde hair that she
used to have all those years ago. ‘Come on, trust me,’ her voice called again.

‘I’m coming, Rose, I’m coming.’ Jim reached for Rose’s hand. ‘Where are we going?’

She giggled and whispered, ‘You’ll see, my love.’

And Jim felt no pain as he slipped without knowing from one world into the next.

‘I’m sorry, John. Losing both parents within a week of one another can’t be easy.’ Doctor Thistlethwaite looked up from signing the death certificate.
‘He seemed fit enough, but he simply couldn’t live without your mother. He died of a broken heart – melancholia. I’ve seen it a few times in my life.’

John sat in the chair opposite the doctor. ‘He said I’d to stop with Mike and drown my sorrows after the funeral. That he was all right and I didn’t have to worry about him. I
should have known. We even left him to walk home, because he insisted he wanted to be on his own.’ John ran his hands through his sandy hair, unable to believe that he’d buried his
mother yesterday and come home to find his father dead this morning.

‘Don’t feel guilty. I don’t believe he suffered any pain. As I laid him out in our new mortuary hut he almost looked as if he was smiling.’ The doctor rose and patted
John on the back. ‘You know where I am if you need me. And if I’m not being too presumptuous, Molly Mason will give you a shoulder to cry on. She was upset this morning when she saw
your father’s body come into the mortuary.’ He picked up his hat and put it on. ‘Well, I must get back. We had three new cases of smallpox this morning. I had to admit young
Florrie from the Welcome Inn yesterday – it’s touch and go whether she’ll live.’ He shook his head sadly. There’s no rhyme or reason in this life, the grim reaper can
appear at any time. Thankfully, the railway has rehoused the Reverend Tiplady and commandeered his residence as an isolation ward and mortuary. Lord knows, I’m going to need them.’

The doctor doffed his hat and left John with his head in his hands, wondering how he was going to break the news to Mike. He dreaded the thought of another funeral to arrange, especially when it
meant dealing with that sanctimonious vicar. Soon both his parents would be in that churchyard. And from what the doctor had just said, many other residents of Batty Green would be following them
as the smallpox continued to spread.

Molly cleared away the dinner things, only half-listening as Lizzie chatted away about the latest goings-on at her job. She too had come home with news, but it was not good.
All through the meal she had wondered how to break it to Lizzie, knowing that she’d be devastated when she heard. So she held back, letting her daughter babble on about the forthcoming visit
of the director of the Midland Railway.

‘He’s travelling from Leeds in the morning, and guess what – the last bit of track was laid today, so the train will bring him right to where the station is going to be, just
above the hospital.’ Lizzie was clearly brimming with excitement. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you! Even though the station’s not built yet, the trains will be stopping there from
Saturday onwards. So you can catch a train to Settle and beyond from Batty Green – except the station’s going to be called Ribblehead.’

‘Lizzie Mason, you witter on and forget to tell me the most important bit of gossip yet!’ Molly forgot her worries momentarily and joined in her daughter’s enthusiasm.
‘This will open a whole new world to us. Just think, we can go to Settle for shopping! Or if I save up, we can even go visiting relations in Bradford – there’s bound to be a
connecting train.’

Lizzie’s face lit up at the prospect, but she wasn’t done with delivering all the details of the director’s visit. ‘Mr Ashwell’s going to ask the director for money
to make the graveyard bigger. That miserable old vicar came by this morning to say he’d only one grave left and that would be going to Jim Pratt. With smallpox rife he’ll be needing
lots more room but the church can’t afford to buy the land. Mr Ashwell had to turn him away, but he’s promised to have a word with the director about it. He told me he was devastated at
the smallpox outbreak and that no decent boss would think twice about putting his hand in his pocket.’