With Love From Ma Maguire (69 page)

‘Oh. Don’t you mind?’

‘A bit. But one must move with the times.’

‘Aye. That’s what I’m doing. Moving with the times.’

‘It’s a long way.’

She smiled mischievously. ‘I’ll be back, Mr Swainbank. You just mark my words. There’s no keeping a good girl down.’ The shoulders straightened as she performed a comic salute. ‘I shall return.’

And he knew in that instant that she would.

It was a chilly morning. Janet pulled the scarf more tightly about her neck as she studied a bird flying across the spire of Bolton Parish Church. She stood on Churchgate, the site of the town’s earliest market, where generations before her had haggled over sheep and cattle, where Puritans had gathered to sever the head of a royalist. So familiar, all of it, so dear to her. It was her town, hers! Why then was she leaving it? Because if she didn’t, if everyone didn’t try in his own way, then there would be no Bolton, no Lancashire, no England. The whole of Europe would be eaten away, that’s what Mr Churchill said. And as far as Janet was concerned, whatever Winnie said was gospel.

Nevertheless, she grieved almost to the point of tears, cursed herself inwardly for not having a handkerchief in her pocket. She bent to open the suitcase, lifting out the top items as she searched for a hanky. Her fingers made contact with an unexpected object and she lifted this out, her eyes widening with shock as she found herself staring at Gran’s special brooch, the leprechaun’s gift. After more careless rummaging, she came up with an envelope, her name printed roughly in pencil on the outside.

Quickly she tore at the flap and pulled out a single sheet. The writing was like that of a child, half lowcase, half high, while spellings and grammar were infantile and untutored.

MY Dere JAnet

I no YoU Are goin froM Us. This YoU Do with bLessin froM Me. cUM hoMe to Us. I wish I cUD rite More.

TAke cAre of YoUr SeLf.

With Love FroM MA MAgUire.

Through a thickening fog of tears, she watched Lizzie Corcoran struggling towards her, a weighty suitcase dragging along the ground. Janet looked back at the words in her hand, then, after pinning the brooch firmly to her collar, she bundled everything under the already creased best frock. Oh Gran! The old dear must have found the case ready packed, must have decided to keep Janet’s secret to herself. Oh Gran! Now, Janet really did need a handkerchief.

‘You knew! You knew and you said nowt to me?’ Molly stared open-mouthed at her mother-in-law. ‘How could you do that? Just sit back and let her go? Paddy! Get down to that station and look for her.’

‘Eh? What about the shop?’

‘Kevin Wotsisname can manage. And anyway, what’s more important – the shop or our daughter? Go on! Get in the van and down to Trinity Street. Mind, she might have gone on a chara if there’s any running. What if she’s at the coach station? Look there and all, Paddy! Hurry up!’ She pushed her husband out of the room.

‘We don’t even know where she’s for,’ said Ma quietly.

‘It’ll be London. You know damned well it’ll be London, the road she’s carried on about bombings and what if they kill the king. She’ll finish up sleeping under the ground with all them trains! She’ll be killed! I just know she’ll be killed!’

‘Then bring her back, why don’t you? Get her home so that she can run tomorrow or next week.’

‘Eh?’

‘She’ll go whatever you do. We cannot hold the girl any longer, Molly. That’s the truth of the matter – and the sooner you face up to it, the better for all concerned.’

‘I feel sick.’

‘So do I.’

‘Aye well, happen you deserve it. I wouldn’t have let her go, not without a fight.’

‘And where would the argufying get you? You’d finish up with a daughter who hates you.’

‘But . . .’ Molly sank into a chair, her hands straying across the table to pluck at a tea towel that covered a tray of scones. ‘Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t she let me know she was going?’

‘Because she realized you would try to stop her. Janet wanted no bad feelings between us. She is following her conscience, Molly.’

‘She’s looking for a bloody husband, more like!’

‘Perhaps she’s killing several birds with just the one stone. Howandever, we’ve held on a little too firmly—’

‘You were as bad! You wouldn’t let her go nowhere!’

‘I know that. But there comes a time for letting go. Now. Get all the stuff ready for when Paddy returns with the van and Bella. She’ll stay with Joey till after dinner, then I’ll pop back and take over. We’ll manage, Molly. Mrs Bowles can sell buttons just as well as Janet did. And don’t be worrying, for Janet’s a survivor if ever I saw one.’

‘But . . . the bombs! And all them foreigners—’

‘Foreigners?’

‘There’s all sorts in London. Australians, Poles, Canadians, even Americans—’

‘And good luck to them too! If it’s not their war and yet they still care enough, then surely they are welcome visitors! Just pull yourself into one piece, woman! Your daughter is almost eighteen years old, old enough to cope. Would you have her fastened down the rest of her life? Weren’t you the one who wanted her to make her own way? Well, she is making it and good luck to her.’

‘It’s a bloody war!’

‘I’m not deaf! Don’t shout at me, girl – and less of the language, if you please! Do you think I haven’t noticed the sirens and the bombers? I worry too, sure enough. Where will she live, what sort of work will she have to do, will she be safe? But she’s gone. And we will do nothing to bring her back. If you want to keep her, then let her go.’

‘Oh, Ma—’

‘I understand, Molly. I do.’

They piled all the day’s food into crates, then made breakfast for the two younger children. When Michael and Daisy had left for school, the women sat in silence waiting for Paddy. Bella Seddon burst in before he did, her face purple with excitement.

Ma sighed heavily. ‘Morning, Bella.’

‘He’s took them. Him.’

‘Who?’ Ma’s eyebrows shot upward. ‘Who’s taken who and where to?’

‘The landlord. Swainbank.’

Molly jumped to her feet. ‘Eh? What are you on about at all?’

Paddy fell in at the front door, a look of absolute amazement on his face. ‘Mrs Corcoran flagged me down, asked what I thought of Charlie Swainbank being so good. He’s give our Janet and their Lizzie a lift to London! They’re going to work at a hospital or summat.’

Ma looked quickly from Molly to Paddy. ‘Yes. I knew all about that. The man was already going down on business . . . er . . . to talk to the government about the cotton mills,’ she lied hurriedly. After all, she didn’t want Bella Seddon running round the old neighbourhood with tales of Janet making off with the landlord. ‘I didn’t say anything, for I knew the two of you would try to prevent the poor child going for a nurse. I’m very proud of my granddaughter, Bella. Very proud indeed. And yes, it was good of Mr Swainbank to take them.’

Bella, her sails collapsing for lack of wind, went to have a look at Joey. It seemed there was going to be little to gossip about after all.

‘Get in the van,’ whispered Ma between gritted teeth. ‘No, I didn’t know. But I wasn’t giving you-know-who any advantage. Come on now, Paddy. The man likely thought she had permission.’

‘Lizzie had permission.’ Paddy continued to look confused.

‘Well, our young madam certainly didn’t.’ Molly’s face wore that closed look, the expression Ma recognized as ‘I’ve made my mind up to get to the bottom of this and don’t try and stop me’.

Ma called a farewell to Bella, then pushed the other two through the front door. They sat in the van, Molly on a pile of sacks behind the passenger seat. ‘Get back inside for the stuff, Paddy,’ snapped Ma. ‘We’ll be forgetting our heads next.’

‘Bastard!’ cursed Molly as soon as her husband was out of earshot.

‘Don’t you dare say one thing, Molly Maguire! Throw your weight about with Swainbank now and he’ll tell Janet what you don’t want her to hear. And how would she handle the news in the middle of a blitz, eh? Would she take care of herself with all that on her mind? Leave it alone.’

‘He’s already told her,’ wailed Molly. ‘That’s why she’s run away—’

‘Rubbish! Stop talking a load of potato peelings, will you? Dear Lord of mercy—’

‘I want to go to London,’ Molly sobbed. ‘I want to follow him and bring my Janet back.’

‘In this boneshaker? You’d never catch him.’

‘We could try!’

Ma swivelled as far as she could manage in the uncomfortable seat. Molly wept hysterically, her breath taken by violent sobs. ‘Asthma next,’ pronounced Ma before delivering a sizeable blow to her daughter-in-law’s cheek. ‘Stop it! Stop it now, this very minute! You’ve other children to care for, a husband to think about and a business to run. We carry on as usual. We carry on so that there’ll be something for Janet to come back for.’

‘You hard-faced miserable old bitch!’

‘And the top of the morning to you too, Molly Maguire. Here’s Paddy with the food. Don’t be weeping into the bread now.’

‘Ma!’

‘What?’

Molly swallowed hard. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘That, my love, makes several of us.’

It was Friday evening. Perkins was polishing the car, trying to achieve a decent shine with the cheap wax he’d been forced to buy. This was a damned shame. Money counted for nowt these days. You could have a drawerful and still get nothing with it because there was little to sell. He straightened from his task to find Molly Maguire standing quietly by his side, an expression of calm determination on her face. ‘Oh.’ Perkins stepped back a pace. She looked grand, all poshed up in a nice suit and with her hair done. But she was on the bounce again – he could tell that from the hard look in her eyes. The anger might be cold, even frozen, but it was there all right. ‘I . . . er . . .’ he mumbled ineffectually, suddenly tongue-tied. If she was the mother of . . . eeh, it didn’t bear thinking about, not with a face on her hard enough to stand clogging! ‘I were just . . . cleaning up a bit . . . er . . . tidying, like.’

‘Is he in?’

‘Well, he was. I mean . . . I mean yes, I’m sure . . . Shall I go and find him?’

‘It might be a good idea.’

‘Bit of nice weather, eh?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll . . . er . . . I’ll just . . . Hang on a minute, will you?’ He flew through the house, bursting unannounced into the study with a cleaning rag still clutched to his chest.

‘Whatever’s the matter, Perkins? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘It’s a woman. I mean a lady. Her as come to see you a few years back.’

‘Pardon?’

Perkins coughed. ‘That one with the shop, her as used to live up School Hill way in Bolton.’

‘Oh.’ Charles was suddenly bolt upright in the chair.

‘She . . . she don’t look right pleased with life – if you get my drift, sir. In fact, I’d say she’s got the whole bloody hive in her hat, not just the one bee.’

‘Show her in.’

‘In here?’

‘That’s right.’ Charles waited for the man to move. ‘Preferably tonight, Perkins. Before it goes dark.’

‘Oh. Right. Yes.’ He backed out of the room and rushed down the steps. ‘He says you’ve to come in, Madam.’

‘Thank you. Are you all right?’

‘Me? Oh aye. Yes, I’m fine. Never been better. Touch of rheumatism now and again, mustn’t complain. Bit of nice weather, see?’

‘Yes.’ Molly decided that Perkins was likely a screw or two short, probably another of Charlie’s charity cases, a conscience saver. Though he’d seemed all there last time when he’d opened the door to her. Still. You never could tell. Perhaps he had something that worsened with the years, a degenerative disorder of some kind. Poor man.

Molly wasn’t angry, not at all. What she felt was – well – nothing, really. The ability to feel had disappeared these last two days, had started to disappear once she’d found Janet’s farewell note in the bread bin. But she’d decided to come up to the Hall all the same. Charlie Swainbank had never bested her yet and he wasn’t going to start now! And she wouldn’t show herself up, not this time. She walked slowly into the study, her eyes fixed on Charles until the door closed behind her. ‘Well?’ she asked as she placed her bag on the table. ‘I’m not going to lose me rag, so there’s no need for you to fetch the suit of armour. Just tell me what’s gone on.’

‘I was coming to see you anyway, Molly . . . to explain a few things . . .’

‘That’s easy to say now, isn’t it? The bloody filly has gone and bolted!’

He shook his head slowly. ‘Look. I promised not to tell you of her intentions, but I said nothing about presenting you with a fait accompli.’

She tutted quietly under her breath. ‘It’s all right, lad. I’m not thick, I do know what fait accompli means.’

‘She’s safe.’

‘Is she? How can anyone be safe among that lot down there?’

‘She’s as safe as possible. I’ve placed her with some friends. They’ll try to direct her into work that’s not too exposed.’

‘Janet’s not a particularly directable item, Charlie. Even if she was a weathervane, she’d turn her own road against the wind.’

‘I know.’

They stared at one another in silence for a while, then Charles rose to fetch a bottle and two glasses. Without asking, he poured her a hefty measure of port. ‘Drink it up, girl. That must have come as a terrible shock.’

‘It did. Ma knew, though. I think she’d been helping with the packing without even Janet realizing. Why did she come to you? I want the truth now.’ She dropped into the chair opposite his.

‘She didn’t come to me, Molly.’

‘So she . . . I mean, you didn’t—’

‘She doesn’t know. She’ll never know while Paddy lives – unless I die before he does. Even then, arrangements might be considered—’

‘Oh. Why this sudden concern for my husband, eh?’

‘The night of Joey’s . . . accident, I sat with Paddy. I knew then that I had to back off, stay away from Janet . . .’

She fought to keep her composure. Bloody arrogance! Janet wouldn’t have let him within a mile, not while she was still riled over the fire. Mind, she’d got over that now, hadn’t she? All pals together, jaunting off to London in the middle of a flaming world-war! ‘That was a good decision, a really charitable thing to do. You’ve gone in for charity lately, I notice. So. If you were stopping away, how come you took my daughter and Lizzie Corcoran all the way to London?’