He started up from his desk. An hour. That was all the time he had. He gathered up the envelopes and rushed downstairs.
‘Billy!’ he called. ‘Hold the fort, will you? Tell Hardwick I’ll see him when I get back. I’m just going to the bank.’
Billy was curious about young Jenny and the band of children. He’d noticed them several times since the last encounter by the Holy Trinity Church and
thought it odd that he hadn’t seen them previously.
They’ve been here all the time
, he thought,
yet I wasn’t aware of them
.
So after supper one evening, he slipped out of his lodgings and walked briskly across towards the old church and the area where Jenny had said they lived. There was a smell of wood smoke, almost like autumn at home, he thought, and not at all like early summer; but there was also a strong smell of soot still lingering from the burnt-out warehouse. None of the children were about, just an occasional figure wending his way home, and a few stray dogs sniffing in the gutters. He sat on the churchyard wall and pondered why he had come.
Nothing to do with me how others choose to live, but it seems wrong, somehow; and do these children actually have a choice?
The moon slid out from behind a cloud and shone its bright light through the open roof of the warehouse, illuminating the glassless broken windows with lustrous silver curtains. For a moment he forgot the children as he watched the scene, as if waiting for a theatre performance to begin, then suddenly he became aware of a movement, shadows merely, as one by one children appeared, it seemed, like rats from a hole in the ground.
He kept perfectly still; he didn’t know if they had seen him, but a moment later knew that they had, as Jenny and the boy she called Tim appeared at his side.
‘Hello, Mr Rayner.’ She grinned at him. ‘What’s tha doing here?’
‘How do you know my name?’ The moonlight cast a glow on her, making her hair silver and casting a shadow on her thin cheeks.
‘Not much we don’t know about round here,’ she said. ‘But I saw thee one day and followed thee down ’High Street.’
‘Ah! But why did you do that?’
‘I wanted to see them fine hosses again, just to stroke ’em,’ she nodded.
‘They’re not mine,’ he smiled. ‘They belong to my cousin, Gilbert Rayner.’
‘Aye. I know,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve seen him driving ’em. He’s a bit of a toff, isn’t he – not like thee.’
He felt vaguely complimented, but before he could think of a suitable reply, she said, ‘Got to be off. There’s a show on at ’Queens and we want to catch folks while they’re in a good mood, otherwise there’s nowt for us to eat.’ She moved away, then came back. ‘Why hast tha been waiting? We’ve been watching thee for ages. Some of ’bairns wouldn’t come up, they thought tha was from ’law, but I said tha wasn’t.’
‘Come up?’ When she didn’t answer his query, he said quite honestly, ‘I was curious. I wondered where you all lived. You told me that you belonged to no-one, but I can’t believe that. If you have no parents, you could live in a children’s hospital where you wouldn’t have to beg.’
‘Huh.’ She gave him a look of contempt. ‘Tha’s been to them places has tha, Mr Rayner? Know all about ’em?’
No, he didn’t. He hadn’t seen them, though Sammi had, and that was why she was making such a fuss over James’s baby.
‘Well, some of us have been there and we didn’t like it,’ she continued defiantly, ‘so we decided to take our chance out here on ’streets.’
He jumped down from the wall. ‘I’ll walk with you to the theatre,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind.’
She laughed, screwing her nose up, and he thought how young and innocent she looked. She was young, he mused, maybe thirteen or so, but was she innocent? ‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘But what if some of thy fine friends see thee with us? What will they think?’
‘I don’t know, Jenny.’ He smiled down at her. ‘But I don’t really care.’
They didn’t collect much money. The people outside the theatre and the music hall where they later went were not in a generous mood, but some of the children had scavenged fruit that had been left behind to rot in the Market Place, and Billy watched them as they sat on the plinth beneath the King Billy statue, and saw how they shared it out. He wanted to help. He saw how dirty they were, how shabby their clothes.
It’s not a lot to ask for
, he thought.
Clean water and clean clothes. It’s hardly riches
. He thought of the good supper that he had eaten at his lodgings and how much there had been left that would be wasted, and felt a sense of shame. ‘You’ve enough money to buy bread and some milk.’ He cast his eye over the small pile of coins. ‘Would you like me to go to the baker for you, Jenny?’ He had the idea that he would buy extra out of his own pocket.
‘No thanks, Mr Rayner. I’ll go and get it,’ she said. ‘’Baker’ll charge thee over ’odds.’ She grinned. ‘He knows me, we have an arrangement and he lets me have it cheap if I go in later on. He’ll be baking at this hour; he doesn’t like being troubled when he’s busy with his ovens.’
Billy nodded, then pursed his lips. ‘What did you say, Jenny?’
She looked baffled. ‘What about? I said ’baker would be busy.’
‘About you going in later?’
‘Oh, aye.’ She grinned. ‘Don’t worry. I know how to look after myself. He just likes a bit of a cuddle, that’s all. Nowt else. His wife is upstairs so he daren’t try owt, and anyway all ’other bairns wait outside. They’d kick up such a din if they thought I was in ’trouble.’
He was shocked. Shocked to think that a seemingly respectable tradesman would try to take advantage of a child, for that was all she was, and appalled too that the girl was already sufficiently hardened to the manners of such men to know and expect treatment
of this kind; and yet she was prepared to condone their behaviour in order to put a crust of bread into her mouth. He felt anger gnawing his insides.
There’s something wrong with our society if we allow such hypocrisy in our midst. I swear I will not live by such rules
.
‘Jenny! What is your other name? Your surname?’
‘Tomlinson.’ She gazed at him curiously. ‘Nobody’s ever asked me that afore.’
He stood up and gave her a short bow and offered his arm. ‘Miss Tomlinson. I wish to accompany you to the baker. We are about to buy you some bread.’
The baker would be only too pleased; he bowed and scraped as Billy introduced himself as William Foster Rayner of Masterson and Rayner, shipping merchants. Only too pleased to supply any leftover bread to the children at a reduced price.
‘I am calling on as many traders as I think will be kind enough to be accommodating on this worthwhile mission, for it is a terrible indictment on our good citizenship, is it not, sir, that these
children
,’ and he emphasized the word, ‘should have to beg for their supper?’
Jenny caught his mood and stood with her head bowed as he spoke and then glanced up appealingly at the baker with her saucer eyes.
‘And can I take your name, sir, to give us a regular subscription? No, no, not now,’ he objected as the baker fished under his apron for his purse. ‘It must be done through the proper channels. I might well be a rogue or a charlatan, out to exploit you or these innocent children.’
The baker protested. ‘Not you, Mr Rayner. Why the name of Rayner has been well known in this town for years, aye, and Foster too, I’ve heard tell.’ He leaned a floury arm across towards him. ‘Here. Take a shilling now,’ he said with great philanthropy. ‘Tha can get a meat pie with that for ’little lady.’ He picked up a loaf, still hot from the oven, ‘and have that with
my compliments. Tha’ll not get better bread anywhere in ’town.’
The children gathered round Billy outside the shop, their mouths drooling at the sight and smell of the warm bread. He gave Jenny the shilling and the loaf. ‘There you are, Miss Tomlinson, I’m sure you know better than I how to share it out. Tonight you have earned your supper. Tomorrow is another day; and it will be better. It has to be. I
swear
it will be.’
‘It will be a grand wedding, I expect?’ The seamstress had eased the waist and shortened the hem on Betsy’s gown and put the finishing touches to Sammi’s cape.
It would indeed be a grand wedding, according to the guest list. Bankers of the town had been invited, and the Mayor and civic dignitaries, as well as ship owners and merchants. Austin Billington was determined to make his daughter’s wedding the talking point of the town.
Sammi and Betsy were to spend the eve of wedding night at Garston Hall and get ready there, as the builders had already moved into the mill, and the house was full of dust as they started to enlarge the kitchen. The cast-iron kitchen range ordered from York had arrived and lay in the yard in its wooden crate. It had a large side oven and a tap for drawing off hot water, as well as the usual accoutrements for hanging a kettle or roasting a joint.
‘We’ll collect you tomorrow, Tom. Be ready, won’t you?’ Betsy called to him as she climbed into the trap. He waved his hand in answer and went back inside the mill. The yard was filled with piles of sand and sacks of lime, bricks and pantiles, and the builder’s men were mixing mortar, for they had also started on the new building which would house the new steam engine.
‘Tom seems preoccupied, Betsy. Is he missing Mark, do you think?’
Betsy shrugged. ‘Well, I’m not. Life is a lot more comfortable without him constantly bickering, but I suppose there is more work for them now that he’s
gone. Still, the new engine should make things a lot easier, especially for Da. Milling is such hard work, and he gets very tired.’
Sammi shook the reins and Boreas picked up into a brisk trot as they turned down the lane to Monkston.
‘Are you glad to be going home, Sammi?’
Sammi’s face lit into a slow smile. ‘Yes. I do miss everyone, and Mama and Pa have agreed a truce, though they’re still displeased with me; but I shall miss not seeing Adam for a day or two. I think he knows me now, you know. I’m sure he smiles at me.’
Betsy turned a wry glance at Sammi. ‘Mrs Bishop said you would get over fond of him, didn’t she? Well, she was right.’
‘I hope James is at the wedding. And I wonder if he’ll want to know about Adam?’ Sammi frowned. ‘I’ve not heard from him. Do you think that he thinks of him at all?’
There was a stiff breeze blowing off the sea as they emerged onto the steps of Garston Hall at ten o’clock the next morning. But the sun was bright and they knew that once they had moved inland the day would be warmer.
‘Oh, you do all look lovely, ma-am.’ Martha and some of the other maids came out to see them off, and Cook and the kitchen maid peeped from behind the kitchen wall.
William smiled at his wife as he handed her into the carriage. ‘You do indeed look lovely, my dear.’
Ellen had chosen a crinoline gown in silver grey, with white muslin sleeves and a matching sleeveless jacket, and a large white hat with a spotted veil.
‘May I travel with Sammi and Betsy as far as Tillington, Papa?’ Victoria hopped from one foot to another in excitement. She wore a blue-and-white hooped muslin gown with a tucked and pleated embroidered bodice which her mother had painstakingly stitched for her. Over the top she wore a
darker blue cloak with a hood, for her mother was afraid of her taking a chill, and on her head, a circlet of blue and white silk flowers.
Her father agreed and escorted her to the chaise where Sammi and Betsy were already seated.
‘Uncle William! How very handsome you look,’ Betsy said admiringly. ‘Oh, how lovely if we could dress like this every day!’
‘Then you must try to catch yourself a rich husband, my dear,’ her uncle said wryly. ‘For you will need a fortune.’ He walked back to the Rayner carriage, swinging his silver-topped cane. He flipped up the tails of his frock-coat as he sat down next to his wife, and tapped on the roof to tell Johnson to move off.
‘There he is. There’s Tom!’ Victoria squealed and hung out of the window as their chaise approached the mill. ‘Tom! I wouldn’t have known you. How very grand you look.’
Sammi shushed her. ‘Victoria! Do behave! You’ll embarrass Tom,’ she whispered as Tom opened the door and helped Victoria out and into her father’s carriage, and she felt suddenly shy as he stepped inside their chaise and sat beside her, for Tom was quite transformed. His dark hair was brushed and shiny without a trace of flour which often coated it, and cut so that it curled around his ears, and his grey frock-coat, hired for the occasion, fitted him perfectly, showing off his broad shoulders and slim hips, and beneath his pin-striped trousers he wore shiny black shoes.
‘Whew, Tom!’ Betsy gazed at him. ‘You’ll have all the ladies chasing after you. You look so elegant and wealthy. Even Aunt Mildred will be impressed. No-one would guess that you’re only a poor miller’s son.’
He sat back and crossed his legs and nonchalantly tapped his fingers on his top hat. ‘And everyone will know that you are not a lady if you give the game away, Betsy,’ he said dryly. ‘So shall we have a pact that neither of us will tell?’ As he eased back into the
seat he brushed against Sammi’s hand. ‘I beg your pardon, Sammi. Good morning to you.’ He smiled at her, his eyes lingering on her face. ‘How lucky I am to be in such fine company.’
Uncle Thomas and George came to the gate to wave good-bye. ‘Are you sure you can manage, Da?’ Tom asked anxiously. ‘Don’t try and do too much today. We’ll catch up tomorrow when I get back.’
His father scratched his chin and shook his head. ‘I’m not sure as we can manage wi’out thee, Tom. Maybe tha’d better get out of them fancy clothes after all and I’ll go in thy place.’ He nodded at Victoria and her mother leaning out of their carriage window. ‘If I’d have known there were going to be such beauties around I would have accepted ’invitation.’
Sammi stretched across Tom to speak to George, her skirt rustling against his knee. ‘Richard said he would call in to see you later in the day. He has to come to Tillington. Oh! We’re off! Good-bye. Good-bye.’
They all leaned out, waving their hands towards Uncle Thomas and George, who stood with raised arms to send them off to the wedding.