With Love From Ma Maguire (60 page)

Jim maintained his precarious stance in front of Charles, the latter apparently dumbstruck by what went on around him. ‘Hang on!’ screamed Jim. ‘That’s if they ever prove he started the fire. It could have been owt – a total accident for all we know. And you can’t form a lynch-mob whether he did it or not. So I’m telling you now – all of you – get home before this goes out of hand.’

When a few policemen entered the yard, the crowd began to disperse. As soon as there was enough space, Jim bundled Charles down the steps and round the corner to number two mill. Janet followed at a slower pace, catching up with the two men outside the ground floor office. ‘Mr Swainbank?’ she called.

He turned to look at her.

‘I shan’t be coming back, not tomorrow, not ever. Ronnie was a good lad, good at school – talented, like – and kind to his mother. He was special. I’ve no real idea whether or not you started this lot, but in me bones, I feel it’s your fault. So I don’t want to work for you no more.’

Jim reached out an imploring arm. ‘Nay lass. Don’t be hasty. You’ll make a fair weaver in time.’

‘If I wanted to carry on, there’s other mills, Jim. Mind, I’ll never find a better teacher, will I?’

‘You’ll do all right. Anyway, I’m leaving meself what with one thing and another.’

Janet fixed a cold grey gaze on Charles Swainbank’s stricken face. ‘Mr Higgins is going blind,’ she said quietly. ‘Because of one of your shuttles. I think it’s time you paid him off, don’t you?’

Jim’s face was white with grief and anger. ‘Janet! Don’t you be minding my business now! Anything between him and me will go through the union—’

She straightened her weary spine, holding herself tall, literally and actually growing up in that moment. ‘No, it won’t, Jim. Like a lot round here, you’ll just put up with it because old injuries are hard to prove. Fight him! For God’s sake – have some pride!’

‘Not you, Janet.’ Charles’ voice was weak with smoke-damage. ‘Don’t turn against me – please.’

‘Why not? What does it matter to you, eh? I’m just an apprentice weaver, ten a penny. Why should you care what I think?’ She smiled at Jim. ‘I’ll not be going in another mill. Me mother wants me in the shop in town, so I’ll give in to her. Like you, I feel it’s all been decided for me—’

‘Janet!’ Charles’ tone was stronger now. ‘Do you realize who I am?’

She looked him up and down. ‘Oh yes. I know who you are, all right. We all know who you are. In time, it won’t matter a jot. Government will keep you going for a while, put taxes on cheap cloth from abroad. But the only road as you lot will survive in the long run is if you all stick together. Names are probably the first thing for the chop. I came into cotton hoping that a few takeovers would give me a good wage. It won’t be a case of who you are – it’ll be who you used to be.’

This was Ma Maguire all right! Ma Maguire talking through the mouth of a fifteen year-old babe! ‘Janet!’ he called. ‘I am your f—’ He dropped his head. What was he doing? What price would she put on herself now if she knew whose daughter she really was? Cheaper than ten a penny? Dear God, what had he done with that dead cigar? And had it been dead? Questions, questions, all unanswerable. He lifted his head. ‘I am your friend,’ he muttered.

‘Then I’d best keep me eyes open for enemies, hadn’t I? Make sure you give something to Mr Higgins to cheer him up now you’ve sent him near blind—’

‘Shut up!’ shouted Jim.

‘They’ve got away with too much!’

‘Janet.’ Jim’s tone was quiet and serious. ‘I’ve seen a lot of life and a lot more of death than I wanted to. There’s a pattern to things, lass. If it wasn’t him’ he jerked a thumb towards his employer, ‘it would be some other clever bugger flying battle colours and shouting the orders. Don’t be taking so much on yourself and you not that long out of nappies. If you’re not careful, you’ll turn out a bitter woman.’

‘Then I’d best leave present company. Oh, I don’t mean you. You were the greatest thing about this job. But I’d get bitter if I stopped too long near him.’

‘Wait!’ Charles stepped forward. ‘Listen to me. I don’t know how the fire started and that’s the honest truth. Perhaps it was my fault and if that’s the case, I am very sorry. Ronnie’s mother will be compensated . . .’

‘Oh aye? Pounds shillings and pence? How much for a life, Mr Swainbank? Ten bob, a hundred pounds – two hundred? What’s the bloody difference? How much for Jim’s eye, what about them that lost arms and legs, what about bald old women who left their hair in a carder? You can’t do anything for Ronnie’s mam, nowt at all! There’s no fetching him back, is there?’ Her eyes blazed with fury.

‘He knows that, Janet,’ ventured Jim. ‘Two sons and a Missus he’s lost these last weeks . . .’

‘Really? Then he’ll know it’s nowt at all to do with money. Though I dare say Ronnie’s mother would be glad of a few bob now her wage-earner’s been snatched. Do as you like, Mr Swainbank. I’m off to my family, must let them know you didn’t kill me too!’

Janet marched out past the smouldering remains of the shed, her eyes brimming with tears. She had loved the mill, so had poor Ronnie. He’d been a good laugh once he’d got his bearings and stopped being shy, always joking and pulling folks’ legs, was Ron. Why, if he’d lived, they might have finished up wed to one another, ’cos they’d got on great.

She turned into a dingy street at the back of the mills and walked unannounced into a house. Ronnie’s mother, her face white with shock, sat by the fire surrounded by neighbours.

‘Mrs Bowles?’

‘What? Oh, hello love. Get a brew, pot’s full.’

Janet led Mrs Bowles’ next door neighbour into the scullery and closed the door quietly. ‘I’m Ronnie’s friend,’ she whispered. ‘Now I know Mrs Bowles won’t be up to much for a while, but when it’s all over, send her to my shop on Bradshawgate.’

‘Your shop, love?’

‘Maguires’ Market – it’s owned between me and me brother. There’ll be a job for her, fair pay and a good dinner on top. She can start whenever she’s ready.’

‘I’ll tell her. What happened at the mill, lass?’

Janet shook her head wearily. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘They say Swainbank were smoking. Is it right?’

‘Yes.’

The woman dropped on to a stool. ‘There’ll be bother – I reckon they’ll kill him! Her at the other side of Mrs Bowles – she works at number one, says their blood’s up.’

‘They’ll have to catch him first.’ Janet smoothed her tangled hair, noticing how it still reeked of oily smoke. ‘Yes, they’ll have to catch him. And there’s no easy way to catch a snake, is there?’

Chapter 15

He had been shut away in the study for a week now. Food was left outside the door and untouched trays would be picked up within the hour, while very short shrift was meted to anyone who dared to put a head inside the room when it was unlocked for brief periods. Perkins marched into the kitchen and banged Mr Swainbank’s breakfast on the table. ‘That does it!’ he announced. ‘I’m for getting the doctor in.’

Mrs Marshall tutted as she scraped eggs, bacon, toast and marmalade into the slops bucket. ‘I wouldn’t care. There’s folk who’d give an arm for a meal like this.’

‘Aye well. There’s no use saying them sorts of things to him just now, is there? That’s what it’s all about – how his workers are bad done to. He blames himself for that lad’s death. And God knows there’s been more than enough dying round here lately.’ He fell into a chair and stretched aching legs in front of him. ‘Happen he’s stopping out of the union’s road till after the investigations. Only that’s not like him – he’s never been a-feared of facing music. I don’t know how to snap him out of it – he won’t listen to anything like sense.’

Mrs M threw the pots into the sink, then removed her capacious apron. ‘You’re not the only one, Jacob. Me, Emmie, Carrie Fishwick – we’ve all fell out of the same boat, all drowning ’cos yon feller won’t try and swim. Damn foolishness! Carrie’s usually good with him and you’d think her nursing training would help, but she’s pleaded with him all night through that door, begged him to come out and eat, she did. Might as well talk to herself! Anyroad, I’m nearing the end of me rope and you can come with me and all.’

‘Where?’ He sat bolt upright and stared at the bustling woman as she dragged a comb through her hair. ‘What the hell are you up to?’

‘Me? I’m up to nowt much! I’m ground that far down with cooking meals what folk don’t eat – I feel as if I’m not a full shilling any more! I’ve tried boiling, frying, poaching – you name it – I’ve stood on me head and done it. There’s more food in that pig-swill bucket for the back farm than there’s ever been before, even when we had a full house. So, I’m putting a stop to it, that’s what. I just wish Carrie was here to back me up, only she’s past the armpits down the mill what with him stopping here a week and no sign of going back. We are getting in that room, Jacob Perkins, even if it means taking an axe to the door.’

His jaw dropped. ‘We can’t do that, Mary!’

‘Course we can! Shut your mouth, there’s a tram coming! No use sitting there looking gobsmacked and gormless.’ She smoothed the dark dress over her heavily corseted frame. ‘It’s either thee and me or the bloody fire brigade. Coming on a treat, he were. And now where is he? Back to the kick-off is where. We have to get him out of that study, lad.’

‘You’re not wrong.’ He puffed out his cheeks and exhaled loudly. ‘When did he last eat?’

She scratched her pepper-and-salt head. ‘I’m not sure. Only I count the spuds and that, I even know how many carrot rings or peas to the nearest and it looks as if he’s touching nowt apart from tea, coffee and whatever he’s got in them there decanters on his desk.’

Perkins leapt to his feet. ‘All right, lass. Can’t let him drink himself to death, can’t let you tackle him on your own. Only we might need help – he’s a big feller and there’s a fair amount of whisky in that study.’

‘You mean there was.’

He nodded grimly. ‘There’s more to this than meets the eye, Mary. There’s summat up with him, summat as were there long afore the fire. Always either excited or deep in thought, he was. Only I’d be better saying nowt—’

‘Jacob! When did we last have a secret, eh?’ She strode across the room and placed herself in front of him, hands on ample hips, feet apart, head wagging from side to side in an attitude that demanded an immediate answer.

‘Oh it were . . . well . . . I don’t rightly think I should say much—’

‘Out with it, Jacob Perkins, before I fetch you one with me rolling pin! Whatever it is, I’ll keep it to meself!’

Perkins walked round the table and stared into the fireplace, hands thrust deep into trouser pockets. ‘There’s a lad, the one he turned up with not long back – him as got the guided tour.’

‘Well? I never saw him.’ A foot tapped on the floor while thick arms folded themselves beneath a heavy bosom. ‘What about him? I’ve not all day to be stood here gassing with you!’

‘I reckon . . . I could be wrong, like . . .’ He took a deep shuddering breath. ‘I reckon that one’s his son.’

‘You what?’ Her mouth opened and closed several times. ‘Wrong side, you mean?’

‘Aye.’

‘Eeh, heck!’ Visibly deflated, Mary Marshall fell against the table, fat hands outspread on its bleached wooden surface. ‘Who’s the mother?’

‘I could have it all wrong – there might be nowt in it!’

‘Who though?’

‘Somebody called Maguire. She’s been up here lately and all – on the bounce from the look on her face. Used to be housemaid before our time, when Cissie Whatsername was cook-housekeeper. Old Ma Maguire – you’ll have heard of her with her creams and potions – well, she had a son called Paddy who married this here maid. They’ve four children, I think – well – I’ve seen four. Only I reckon Mr Swainbank’s had a hand in it somewhere.’

‘More than a hand, ask me! Sorry – I didn’t mean to be so crude, only this is a right turn-up, isn’t it? So you think this woman had Mr Swainbank’s child?’

‘Happen she did. The boy’s been in bother, summat to do with Miss Leason.’

‘Eh? Her in the lodge?’

‘That’s right. Took her money, I’d guess. Anyroad, I caught the resemblance, you see. And it all fits, doesn’t it? Fetching a strange lad up here to look round – well, it didn’t seem right to me, specially if he were a bad ’un. I’d say the boy knows nowt. Mr Swainbank were likely just looking him over, seeing what he’s made of. You’ll not let on, I know that, but I’ve had to tell somebody ’cos it’s been going round in me head like a spinning top since I got wind of it. Like I say, I could be up the wrong tree altogether . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Only there’s two of them.’

‘Two? You mean the master made a habit of it? Dear God in heaven, the poor Missus!’

‘Nay, it weren’t that. Twins as far as I could work out from what the lad said in the car. Anyroad, the more I think on it, the closer it fits. Master’s been motoring on his own a lot lately, then when I’ve driven him the odd time, we’ve always had to go along Bradshawgate. They’ve opened a shop, these Maguires. All them bikes for Emmie and the dailies have come from there. Till this week, Mr Swainbank hasn’t been able to stop away from Bolton.’

Mrs M straightened, adjusted the belt of her black dress as if to pull herself together, then moved towards the door. ‘I suppose, come the day, it’ll be nowt to do with us. Main thing is to get this one on his feet. I can’t work out why he’s took it so bad – this is not the first mill fire and it likely won’t be the last either.’

‘Mary?’

She turned in the doorway, ‘What? You coming or not?’

‘There’s talk. Some say he started it.’

‘Deliberate? For insurance? Never, it’s not in his nature – specially with folk in. He’s too honest, Jacob!’

‘They say he were smoking a cigar in that weaving shed.’

‘But . . . in the
Evening News
, it were reported as likely accidental, no mention of anybody smoking . . .’

Perkins shrugged. ‘Same ones are saying that Swainbank has enough clout to write his own account for the paper. I reckon there’s folk after yon feller’s blood.’

‘Nay – he wouldn’t hurt a flea—’

‘He smokes in them sheds, Mary. There’s nowt to get away from it – he breaks his own factory rules regular, like. And now he can’t live with what he might have done.’