Without Sin (36 page)

‘Good. And I’ll make you up a tonic.’ Now he was obliged to glance at Meg. ‘Perhaps you could collect it from the surgery later. I’d offer to drop it in, but
I’m so very busy.’

‘Of course,’ Meg said evenly.

It was almost dark by the time Meg left the shop and made her way towards the doctor’s house. She raised the heavy brass knocker and let it fall with a loud thud that
echoed through the house. She waited several moments before she heard light footsteps beyond the door. When it opened, she saw Louisa holding out both her hands in welcome.

‘Oh, Meg, I’m so glad to see you. Come in.’

‘I’ve only called to pick up some medicine for Percy,’ Meg said stiffly as she stepped into the hallway.

Louisa closed the door and stood facing her. ‘Meg,’ she began tentatively, ‘can’t we let bygones be bygones? Can’t we be friends again? I am more sorry than I can
ever put into words about what happened between us.’

Meg’s mind was working rapidly, calculating. Suddenly, she smiled her brilliant smile and even Louisa gasped at the swift transformation from sulky pout to friendly warmth. She had
forgotten just how beautiful the young girl was.

Meg took her hands and squeezed them. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure. And I – I’m sorry now that I wasn’t at your wedding. When Jake told me you wanted me to be
your matron of honour, I thought it was him trying to bring us together again. I’m sorry I didn’t believe him.’

‘I was hurt at the time, but let’s put it all behind us. Just one thing: Jake Bosley is the most honest boy I know. You can trust him with your life.’

Meg’s mouth hardened and Louisa suddenly feared that she had just lost the tentative beginning they had made. Then Meg shrugged her shoulders and it was as if she was shrugging Jake off
too. ‘I never see him now.’

‘Don’t you?’ Louisa was surprised. ‘Then you won’t know.’

Meg’s eyes were sharp with an interest she could not hide. ‘Know what?’

‘About him and Betsy?’

Unable to speak, as a sudden inexplicable fear tightened her throat, Meg shook her head, her wide eyes fixed on Louisa’s face.

‘They’ve got engaged.’

After a moment, Meg found her voice, but it was a high-pitched squeak. ‘Engaged? But – but Betsy’s only a child.’

Louisa was smiling. Betsy had been one of her favourites at the workhouse and was a regular visitor to Louisa’s home now. She shook her head. ‘Not any more, she isn’t. She was
always small for her age and looked a lot younger than she really was. She’s sixteen now.’

Meg’s mind was in a whirl. Jake – her Jake, for he
was
her Jake – was going to marry Betsy. The depth of the emotion that swept through her startled her. She
didn’t care about him any more, she told herself repeatedly, but now she knew that was all a lie. Foolishly, she had imagined that, even though she had married Percy to gain security, somehow
Jake would always be there for her. He would always be her friend.
That he would always love her and her alone.

‘But he – he doesn’t love her.’

‘Of course he loves her,’ Louisa said and Meg was appalled to realize she had spoken her thoughts aloud. She put her hand to her forehead and swayed.

‘Come and sit down.’ Louisa’s arm was about her, leading her into their private sitting room. ‘There,’ she said, when Meg fell onto the sofa, ‘I’ll get
some tea. I’m sorry, Meg.’ She stood looking down at the girl with a mixture of pity and concern. She hadn’t realized how deep Meg’s bitterness was. ‘I didn’t
think it would be such a shock for you, that it would affect you so much. You’re happy for them, aren’t you?’

Meg could not bring herself to reply.

The day after Percy returned to work, Clara Finch entered the shop. Percy gaped at her for a few seconds before recovering his composure enough to say, ‘Good morning,
Clara.’

Her thin lips tightened. ‘Good morning – Mr Rodwell,’ she said stiffly. Meg watched in amazement as, her hands folded in front of her at waist level, Clara advanced towards the
counter.

‘I’m setting up a ladies’ circle to knit balaclavas, scarves and gloves for the troops. We will be meeting each week at the Hall and I shall require a regular supply of
appropriate wool.’ She sniffed. ‘Of course, I would normally have taken my custom elsewhere, but in these dreadful times one has to forget one’s own petty grievances and think of
the greater good.’

‘Quite so – Miss Finch,’ Percy murmured. ‘I shall be happy to be of service. I will also undertake to supply the wool at cost price. Call it my contribution to your
worthy endeavours.’

Clara inclined her head. ‘Most generous. I will make sure my ladies know of your kind offer.’

Meg wanted to laugh at the stilted exchange of conversation between the two people who had once been betrothed to each other. But instead she carried a selection of different coloured wools to
Percy, gave a polite nod towards Clara and returned to her place at the other side of the shop. She watched as Clara picked out the colour of wool she wanted and Percy noted it, promising to keep a
good supply in stock at all times.

As Clara was about to leave, Percy bade her ‘Good day,’ and added pleasantly, ‘give my kind regards to your brother.’

Clara, on her way towards the door, turned back. Her mouth pursed and her eyes hard she said, ‘Neither of us require your “kind regards”, Mr Rodwell.’

‘I’m sorry. Mr Finch was perfectly pleasant the last time I saw him. I thought—’

‘When did you see him? You had no occasion to see him. He patronizes a tailor in Nottingham now.’

Percy blinked, realizing too late that Clara had no idea that her brother still came into his shop.

‘I – er – encountered him.’

‘Where?’

‘I – er—’ Percy was floundering and Clara was swift to guess the truth.

‘He’s been in here, hasn’t he?’ She paused and when Percy did not answer immediately, she shrilled, ‘Hasn’t he?’

‘Well, just once or twice.’

Clara’s eyes narrowed. ‘Well, he will not be coming into this shop again, you can count on that.’

With that parting shot, she stormed towards the door and out of the shop. The bell clanged weakly.

What happened between Clara and her brother, neither Meg nor Percy ever knew, but Theobald Finch did not come into the shop again. The first Christmas of the war passed with no
sign of the hostilities coming to an end as people had hoped. Over the months that followed the number of customers coming into the tailor’s shop seemed to dwindle.

Where he’d once worried about not being able to cope with the pressure of work, Percy now fretted about the lack of orders. ‘We’re losing business. I haven’t made a suit
in weeks.’

‘Business isn’t so good at this time of the year just after Christmas. You’ve said so yourself. It’ll perk up in the spring. And besides, a lot of the men have gone to
war,’ Meg pointed out. ‘We were lucky to get all those orders for suits when we did.’

Percy’s glance was reproachful. He still felt guilty about all the trade that this terrible war had brought him.

As the second Christmas of the war approached, the whole town seemed sunk in depression. In January 1916 a fierce debate took place in the House of Commons over conscription, single men to be
recruited first. At Middleditch Farm Jake dropped his bombshell over supper one evening. ‘I’m going to enlist and I want Betsy and me to get married before I go. That way, if owt
happens, she’ll get my pension . . .’

Betsy began to cry and George and Mabel stared at the young man.

‘Well, Jake Bosley, that’s a fine way to propose to a girl, I must say. There, there, lass –’ Mabel reached across and patted Betsy’s arm – ‘don’t
take on so.’

‘There’s no need for you to go, lad,’ George said. ‘At least not yet. They’re not calling up married men. If you and Betsy get married quick—’

Jake was shaking his head. ‘That’d be cowardice and I’ve no wish to be given a white feather.’ He tried to make a joke, ‘Even if there are plenty blowing about the
yard.’

But no one was laughing.

George sighed. ‘Aye well, I can’t say I blame you, lad. If I was forty years younger, then—’

‘George!’ Mabel was askance. ‘I hope you’d do no such thing. You should be telling Jake to forget such nonsense, not encouraging him.’ She turned to Jake and her
expression softened. ‘Jake, you’re like a son to us.’ For a moment her expression was pained. ‘Our daughter is lost to us – as good as – and you, well, you and
young Betsy have filled the void in our lives.’

Though a strict taskmaster, Mabel Smallwood could, on occasions, be as soft as the butter she churned in the dairy. She grasped Jake’s hand and then Betsy’s, as if by her actions she
would bind them together. Her voice was husky as she said, ‘There’s nowt we’d like better, George and me, than to see you two settle down together. We’ve even talked about
how to get you a little place of your own.’ She glanced at George, who added, ‘Aye, we reckon if we did a bit of alteration to the side of the house. Built on a hallway and another
staircase and knocked a few holes in the walls, you could have the front room and the bedroom above it and be all self-contained. We’d add on a bit of a kitchen at the back, an’ all.
What do you say, now?’

Jake and Betsy, whose tears had miraculously dried, stared at each other.

‘It’s – very generous of you,’ Jake faltered. ‘We – we never expected anything like that.’

‘No,’ Mabel said tartly, becoming her usual self once more. ‘And if we’d thought for an instant that you did expect it, well, you wouldn’t be getting it.’ She
paused and then her smile took away some of the sharpness. ‘If you see what I mean.’

Jake’s expression, however, was still sober. ‘Is this – I mean – does this offer still stand if I enlist?’

Mabel opened her mouth, but George cast her a warning glance and answered for them both. ‘We’re not the sort of folks to make conditions. Besides, you must do what your conscience
tells you. I’ve never been one to come between a man and his conscience.’

Mabel shut her mouth and lowered her gaze. Jake had the feeling that she did not wholly agree with her husband. ‘So,’ George went on, ‘even if you decide to go, we’ll
look after young Betsy here whilst you’re gone and – God willing – when you come back, we’ll build a home for you both.’

‘I won’t have her at my wedding. I won’t, I won’t.’

Jake had never seen the quiet, docile Betsy in such a temper. Trying to placate her, he said mildly, ‘I don’t suppose she’d come anyway. She wouldn’t come to Dr and Mrs
Collins’s wedding, so I don’t suppose she’d come to ours.’

Betsy was still tearful and truculent, which was unlike her. ‘But you still want her to come. You still want her to be invited. And the missis doesn’t want her here any more than I
do. And they’re paying for our wedding . . .’

Jake sighed. ‘I know, I know. But the missis is a bit unfair blaming Meg for what her father did. And you – I can’t understand why you don’t want to ask her. I thought
you and she were friends.’

‘I’d rather Dr and Mrs Collins came to our wedding,’ Betsy said stubbornly, skirting round the real reason why she didn’t want Meg Rodwell spoiling her special day.
‘And – and Meg doesn’t speak to Mrs Collins, so it – it could make it awkward.’ Betsy was jealous of Meg and always would be. She had witnessed how Jake looked at Meg
and how, when her name was mentioned, his face altered.

‘But they do now,’ Jake insisted. ‘Mrs Collins told me herself. Meg went to the surgery to pick up some medicine for Mr Rodwell and Mrs Collins saw her and they’ve made
it up.’

‘Oh.’ Betsy looked crestfallen.

Jake eyed her closely. ‘You don’t look pleased.’

Betsy was silent. Jake put his arms around her and pulled her to him. ‘Come on, my little love, out with it. What’s really upsetting you?’

She clung to him, burying her face against his chest so that he had difficulty in deciphering her muffled words. ‘You – you – like her, don’t you?’

‘We’re friends.’ Above her head, he grimaced. ‘Well, we were. I’m not so sure now.’

‘No – no, I mean, you really like her.’ There followed two words that he could not hear, so he pulled back and cupped her tear-streaked face between his hands.

‘Look at me, love,’ he said gently. ‘Come on, tell me what’s troubling you. We mustn’t have secrets.’

Tears welled in the young girl’s eyes and trickled down her face. Tenderly, Jake wiped them away with his finger.

‘You – you love her, don’t you?’

Jake stared at her, battling with an inner turmoil that he hoped Betsy would never know of. He sighed and, telling her the truth but not quite the whole truth, he said, ‘When I first met
her, yes, I did like her. I liked her very much. If it hadn’t been for her, I might still be shut up in that place. She gave me the courage to get out and make a life for miself outside the
workhouse. But then –’ he paused for a moment, inwardly mourning the loss of the spirited, fiery girl he had first met – ‘she changed. I suppose – if I’m fair
– it was because of all the things that happened to her, but even so there’s no excuse for some of the things she’s done.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Some things
I can’t forgive her for.’

In a small voice, Betsy said, ‘So – so you – you’re not in love with her?’

Neatly he avoided giving a direct answer, but nevertheless he was utterly sincere. ‘I love
you
, Betsy. It’s you I want to marry.’

Deep inside him he buried all thoughts of Meg forever. And even Betsy had the sense not to voice her deepest anxiety. She didn’t ask aloud:
But if Meg weren’t married to Percy
Rodwell, what then?
Instead she wound her arms about Jake’s neck and whispered. ‘I love you so much, Jake.’

He kissed her and hugged her and did his best to drive away all thoughts of the beautiful girl with the red hair and the heart-stopping smile.

On a Saturday morning in March, Meg stood near the front of the shop, gazing unseeingly out of the window into the street.

Jake was getting married today. To Betsy, of all people. And they were going to live at the farm, treated like the Smallwoods’ own family. They’d all be there, she thought. Philip
and Louisa, Letitia Pendleton. Maybe even Isaac Pendleton and Theobald Finch, George Smallwood’s racing cronies, would have been invited.