Trapped In She Town : A Romantic Novella (The Jute Mills Series) (10 page)

“Mary! Mary Canavan! “ he roared. But no-one could hear him above
the deafening noise of the machines. When he reached the first row of machines
he grabbed a woman by the shoulder. “ Mary Canavan!” he shouted. She shrugged
her shoulders and turned back to her machine.

He carried on running and asking the same question over and over
again “Do you know Mary Canavan.”

Eventually a small boy tugged on his sleeve. “Why are you looking
for my Ma?” he asked.

George grabbed the boy to him in a bear-hug, and then sank down on
his haunches so they were at the same eye level. “Hello son. Are you Patrick?”
The boy nodded dumbly. He was so thin that his face looked almost like a
skeleton with his cheekbones sticking out and he was covered head to foot in
grease.

George was appalled at the sight of Patrick. “I’m a friend of your
mother’s from Aberdeenshire. Can you show me where she is working?”

The boy shook his head. “I’m not allowed to leave this machine or
they will hit me and throw me out.”

“Don’t you worry about that” said George. “You will not be stepping
foot inside this factory again, believe me.”

He didn’t care if Mary had forgiven him or not, he was not letting
this little boy go back to work in these disgraceful, life-threatening working
conditions. He knew it was hard work in the fields but this was torture and
child slavery.

He took the boy’s hand and Patrick led him to a line of machines
against the back wall of the factory. There were around 20 woman sitting at the
little card machines hard at work. They all looked the same from behind,
dressed in filthy, drab grey aprons and caps. As he looked along the row of
weary woman George spotted the glint of chestnut, which had escaped from one of
the dull caps. As always, he smiled to himself, Mary couldn’t contain her wild,
beautiful mane of hair. George walked over and stood behind her, still holding
on tightly to Patrick’s hand.

“Mary, Sweetheart” he whispered.

Over the booming noise Mary felt his presence as much as heard him.
She turned and stared. She couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. Confused
she shook her head. Had she died and gone to heaven. No ,she couldn’t be in
heaven as she was still in the hellhole of the mill.

“Mary, I’ve come to take you home.” George pronounced and held out
his arms for her.

She looked from George to Patrick, who both had huge smiles on their
faces and started to stand up, but it was all too much and she fell into a
faint.

George grabbed her before she fell to the floor and when she came
round, her face was pressed into George’s powerful chest and he was carrying
her out of the factory, with Patrick skipping alongside. “I’m already home” she
murmured to herself as she nuzzled her face closer.

A little, officious man was shouting at George to get out of his
factory or he would call the police.

“With pleasure” George responded.

“Oh
George, George. Please don’t stop” Mary screamed in passion as she climaxed
again and then collapsed spent on top of George’s strong, manly chest.

 “Oh
my beautiful darling” George whispered in her ear. “How I love to see you
writhing in ecstasy” he grinned.

Mary
pushed him away laughing and grabbed at her clothes.

“Quickly,
get dressed” she ordered. “The children will be home from school soon. “You are
incorrigible, George Cassidy.  Sneaking home early from the fields to have your
wicked way with me” she jokingly reprimanded him.

He
pulled her back down on to the bed again, and just as Mary started to sigh in
pleasure they heard the kitchen door bang open and the children come tumbling
in.

George
gave his wife a brief but passionate kiss, and then jumped up pulling on his
shirt and breeches and went out to see to the children. “Your Ma’s a bit tired
and having a lie down” she heard him tell them.

Mary
lay still for a minute, listening to them all chatting and joking together, the
blended family of children and her gorgeous, loving husband. I’ve come a long
hard road she thought to herself, but I’ve eventually made it to paradise.

~~~

Just
as Bessie completed the dressing of Mrs Muir’s hair, she pushes Bessie’s hand
away from her head. “Enough! Get away from me and leave me in peace” Mrs Muir
growled, and Bessie quickly scarpered from the room.

Mrs
Muir had been unbearable since she got the news of her son Edward’s death in
Calcutta. She descends the sweeping staircase slowly for breakfast. She now
likes to sit at the little table that is set at the window of the breakfast
room, looking out into the garden. Lucy is already seated at the table when she
enters the room. The sun is shining brightly through the large windows and Mrs
Muir sips at the cup of tea that Giles has poured for her, but doesn’t touch
any of the delicious food that is laid out.

As
always her thoughts dwell on her beloved Edward. She didn’t even get to see her
son and say a last farewell, as he was buried immediately in that far away
land. Her “handsome, wonderful son” she thought “what a waste”. The end of the
line for the Muir’s – she couldn’t believe it – no heir to take over and carry
on the line. How could she bear it? She stifled a sob so the servants would not
see her in distress. She must always keep her chin up in front of the servants
and not show any sign of weakness.

She
thought of how faithful Bessie was, “pathetic really” she laughed, without
humour, to herself. They all were, all of her servants faithful and obedient.
And suddenly out of the blue came a face. What was that wretched girl’s name
again she thought. She could see the beautiful mane of chestnut hair and the
smiling green eyes. Mary, that was it – the brazen hussy who had seduced her
beautiful, innocent son. She tried to cast her mind back – hadn’t she heard a
rumour that Mary had given birth to a son. Set up home with the filthy
groomsman in some rat-infested tenement with the boy. The boy - Edward’s son –
her grandson. A smile suddenly curled at her thin, wrinkled lips.

She
quickly rang the bell for Giles.

“Get
me Brownlow, the solicitor, immediately” she ordered.

Soon
Mr Brownlow arrived and was whisked into the Drawing Room and exited twenty
minutes later with Mrs Muir’s shrill voice following him into the hallway.

“I
want that boy found and brought to me here!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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