Friendship's Bond (2 page)

‘
. . . you understand I am simply the messenger, had I any influence . . .
’

She had wanted to scream at the hypocrisy she discerned beneath that self-absolution but instead had interrupted calmly.

‘
Was it not your influence which secured me this house, did you not recommend me as a tenant?
’

The question had disconcerted him but his recovery had been swift. Thomas Thorpe was too certain of his own superiority in the eyes of the people he claimed to represent to allow any question of hers to frustrate what was plainly his purpose, yet even so she had persisted.

‘
You were aware at that time of the relationship between Alec and myself. Surely you shared that knowledge with the others so why is it only now they find that relationship to be unacceptable?
’

He had drawn a long breath as if to bolster himself for the delivery of sorrowful news but the gleam in his eyes had proclaimed only elation. ‘
Miss Spencer, I can only say what I have been requested by the congregation to say; that is to inform you the tenancy of this house can no longer be extended to you. Having received this due notice you will vacate the property by noon tomorrow
.’

‘
What you have been requested to say . . .
’

She had repeated the words calmly but disbelievingly. Then at his threatening glance she had continued.

‘
. . . while you of course tried to convince them their concerns were unfounded; you told them how your own attempts to seduce their tenant had met with rejection and with her having refused such a moral, upright man then assuredly she was too virtuous a woman ever to think of indulging in wrongdoing with a boy. Or is that something else I should put to the congregation?
’

Her refusal to become his mistress might as she had surmised have punctured the man’s pride but the barb she had cast at that moment had driven deeper. Staring into the fireplace she had cleaned so meticulously Ann watched the shadows of yesterday dance in its emptiness.

Thomas Thorpe had drawn a vicious-sounding breath, emotions darting in rapid succession across his tight-drawn features while his eyes, never wide, had at that instant closed to mere slits, leaving no doubt: Thomas Thorpe cared only for Thomas Thorpe. He would do whatever it took to prevent any stigma marring his reputation as a caring religious God-fearing soul anxious only for the well-being of the community. So what of Alec’s well-being? Thomas Thorpe’s pale spite-filled eyes had said as clearly as ever words could that this was yet one more question which required no answer. To a man such as he, the welfare of a twelve-year-old was of no consequence and so she had not asked.

‘
Be advised . . .
’

His words seemed to echo from the starkness of the fireplace, to slither across the room as they had slithered the evening before, to hiss again in her ears; the poison of a man refused as a lover, a man so enamoured of himself it seemed vengeance was the only thing that would assuage his damaged pride.

‘
Be advised
,’ she heard in the silence of her mind, ‘
any accusation made against me will rebound upon your head. You will become the victim of what will be seen as baseless claims, a woman caught in depravity seeking to extricate herself by the devious method of shifting blame on to the shoulders of another. The people will not believe and Thomas Thorpe will not forget; so again be advised, leave the chapel and the town with a silent tongue
.’

He had turned on that last word but even as he opened a door on to the small space separating house from chapel she had said quietly, ‘
I pity you, Mr Thorpe, the sewers of the town you profess to safeguard are sweeter than your mind; if you are the representative of God, the spokesman of the chapel congregation, I want no part of them and no part of the religion they follow
.’

As the door banged shut behind her unwelcome visitor Ann had felt tears of despair rise in her throat.

The House of God and the house of man.

Both had been denied her.

Bailiffs sent by Thomas Thorpe had come to see her out. Ann glanced towards the door when she heard a loud rap. It was no person from any neighbouring house; they had come to accept her as one of their own, approaching her as they did neighbours of long standing by pushing open the scullery door and calling as they entered, ‘It be only me wench,’ followed up by a woman’s name. Apart from Thomas Thorpe collecting the weekly rental no man had visited. She had smiled at the answer given to her query about that; ‘Eh wench,’ Dolly Horton had said, ‘a man don’t go a doin’ o’ such, be there a need to call at folks’ ’ouse then that be left to the woman, men meet at their place o’ work and should aught need a sayin’ then it be said there.’

A sharper second rap demanded attention and Ann rose to her feet. She had hoped Alec would have returned before they were evicted but like any young boy, promises to be home at a given time were lost on him once he was outdoors. But the house was to be vacated and even if Thomas Thorpe himself was at the door she would not ask to be allowed to wait inside one more minute. The chapel did not own the street; she would wait at the side of the road until Alec showed up.

‘I were a wonderin’ be you goin’ to answer of my knock.’

Since she was expecting to see a bailiff probably accompanied by one, possibly two men, the sight of a short slight figure dressed entirely in black with a small bonnet on top of a severe grey bun surprised Ann.

‘I sees I don’t be what you reckoned to find standin’ at your door.’ The grey head swung side to side.

‘No, I . . . I was expecting . . .’

‘I knows who it be you was a waitin’ of.’

How could the woman know? They had not met before, of that Ann was positive. Had it been otherwise she would surely have remembered; not so many people attended the chapel that she would not recognise one of them and certainly this woman was not an immediate neighbour. Taught from childhood it was rude to stare Ann glanced across the woman’s shoulder then with a brief smile invited her unexpected visitor to step inside.

‘I won’t be a doin’ of that thought I thanks you kindly.’ The head swung again, this time in vehement denial. ‘I won’t set no foot ’neath that roof nor any other to which them chapel folks gets theirselves, not so long as Thomas Thorpe be among ’em I won’t!’

The very mention of the name made Ann quiver and it seemed from the look crossing the lined face that this woman experienced the same. But not surely from the same cause! Thorpe was a vile man but despicable as he was he would not make advances to a woman so much older than himself.

They were strangers to each other, the woman would not step inside the house; so who was she and why had she come here? Ann looked again at the figure standing resolutely beyond the open doorway. The lines on her face, her callused hands holding a worn shawl tight about her shoulders were not all due to age; as for so many in this town, life had shown this woman little kindness.

Suddenly aware she had given no response to her caller’s forceful statement Ann apologised and enquired what she could do for the woman.

‘Ain’t what you can be doin’ for me brought me to this doorstep, no wench, it be more what Leah Marshall can do for you, allus supposin’ you be of a mind.’

Be of a mind for what? Ann frowned. The appearance of the woman, her worn face and hands, her plain dark skirts, the shawl which had obviously served long and well, all pointed to a life of toil affording little reward and certainly seeing nothing left over for charity.

‘I knows what you be a thinkin’.’ The woman’s slightly stooped shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘What can it be a perfect stranger thinks to offer? Well, though Leah Marshall be not known to y’self her be known to the folk of that chapel and to many in Wednesbury along of ’em. It be the way in this town as I ’spects it be in others, folks’ tongues wag an’ it be a bit o’ that waggin’ come to the ears of Leah Marshall, talk which says of you and a lad bein’ turned from this house, of bein’ put on to the streets for reason of the lad bein’ no blood relative. That be a reason I finds hard to accept but I be askin’ no other, all I be sayin’ is this: Leah Marshall’s house don’t be property of no church nor chapel, it don’t have no landlord to say who can or can’t bide beneath its roof. Small it be and holds naught grand in the way o’ furnishin’ but what it is belongs to Leah Marshall alone and should you and the lad care to lodge there then you be welcome.’

A lodging . . . this woman was offering a place to stay. Relief swept through Ann, but the welcome offer raised questions. Why would she take two people she knew nothing of into her home?

Leah noted the swift tinge of pink rise to colour Ann’s wan cheeks. She had not believed the gossip surrounding this girl, whispers uttered behind her back. That practice never sat well with Leah Marshall, even less so when it came from that particular source. The lies had no doubt been brewed by one who was a master at covering his own doings.

‘Thank you, but I . . .’ Ann stumbled over the reply which would make the woman withdraw her offer, yet it had to be said. ‘The purpose of my being evicted, what the people believe of me . . .’

‘You don’t say no more.’ The bonnet, tied on with a bow almost as large, bobbed precariously. ‘Leah Marshall be a body likes to make her own decisions regardin’ folk and that be what I’ll be a doin’ along of you and the lad should you choose to be teken my offer.’

Meeting the steady gaze Ann felt something she had not felt in many months, a quick indefinable lift which said Leah Marshall was a woman she could trust.

Chapter 2

Leah Marshall watched the various emotions chase across the face of the young woman accepting her offer of a home. She knew very little of her except for the odd snatches of gossip overheard in the market place and those were no sound basis for judgement, but she did know enough of the world to see it had not treated Ann in the best of ways and the weeks spent in that house had in all likelihood played a part.

‘I’ll bide ’ere ’til y’ be ready to go.’ Leah took a step back from the open doorway of Chapel House, a determined pull of the shawl draping her shoulders a clear indication of her intent.

The woman was no longer young; she should not be asked to stand in the open. Uncertain as to how to phrase this concern Ann hesitated.

Leah had read the look. ‘Set y’mind to rest. Leah Marshall don’t be so old her can’t go standin’ for a few minutes nor her legs so weak her be needin’ of a chair.’

‘I’m sorry, I did not intend any slight.’

She would find no disagreement in that. Leah acknowledged the sincerity of the apology. ‘There be none teken, so like already be said I’ll bide ’ere while you gathers of your belongin’s.’

Ann glanced to where a small bundle lay just inside the room. A change of underclothing was all it held. The thief who had taken her suitcase had left nothing behind. The small amount of money she had thought safely hidden beneath her clothes, the cheap trinkets her grandmother had purchased for her at the town fair and even the photograph of her mother, the one she had freed from the clutch of her dead father’s hand, all had been stolen. Alec had found the photograph. Partly damaged by being ripped from the frame it had been thrown mindlessly aside yet even though the horror of robbery had numbed her, she had thanked God for the mercy which had saved for her the one memento she had of the mother she so loved. She sighed at the memory, took up the bundle and said quietly, ‘They are already gathered.’

Tucking the ends of her shawl beneath her breasts Leah turned again to wondering what was the background of the girl she was taking into her home. From the few possessions she had it could be thought she followed the way of the gypsy wandering the roads to wherever they led yet her speech, her dress, the very look of her said nothing of the Romany. So where was she from? If the lad she spoke of was not a relative then who was he and how come they were so close?

Such questions she would not ask yet. Leah nodded towards the house. ‘Then if there be naught of you or the lad left inside I suggests you be closin’ o’ that door and we waits of him along of the street.’

Thomas Thorpe had insisted the key be handed over immediately and had taken it away with him. Fears of his return, of another ordeal such as the one she had been subjected to being repeated, had kept sleep away, every sound of the night, each creak of roof timbers, every sign of branches tossed by a gathering breeze setting her nerves jangling. Thankfully the hours had passed uneventfully. She had told Alec nothing of what had happened, saying instead that a minister might be appointed quite soon and so they must leave. Why had she lied? As at so many times since departing from St Petersburg this was one more thing she would keep to herself.

Ann shut the door firmly and turned to join the waiting Leah.

Please heaven, the night just passed would be the last of her nightmares.

‘
They trusted me, they trusted me as they would no other man
.’

Seated at the window of the bedroom Leah Marshall had provided for her use, Ann stared at a high slow-moving moon.

‘
I gave my word and they honoured me with their trust; they asked I take into my keeping their most precious possession with the prayer it be kept safe, and now . . .
’