And Jinnie finally let go of all the pent emotion she’d bottled up inside and wept on Edward’s shoulder. It felt so good, such a relief. Billy Quinn could demand nothing from her now that Edward knew the truth, if not quite the whole truth. Though what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, not any more. Not once they were wed. Billy Quinn would be forced to leave her alone then, wouldn’t he? And Bella too. They’d both of them be safe.
It was as if a weight had been lifted. Everyone was happy and laughing, teasing and making jokes. Life became fun again and even the blind was lifted in the front parlour to let in some late autumn sunshine.
The preparations for the wedding were hastily made and would certainly have foundered completely had it not been for the steadfast support of Mrs Dyson and Tilly. They set to with a will to scrub and clean the entire house from attics to cellars and finally spent a whole week baking from dawn till dusk, determined to present a wedding breakfast fit for a queen, let alone a Salford waif.
Edward, equally determined that his marriage not be a hole-in-the-corner affair, personally wrote and addressed over one hundred and fifty invitations and waited, grim-faced for the replies. Each morning he would riffle through the post on the tray in the hall and go off to his office sick with disappointment but tense with resolve. If not a single soul turned up to celebrate his nuptials, he would never regret marrying Jinnie Cook. Never.
There were a few polite refusals, the remainder of the Ashton’s so-called friends and acquaintances chose to ignore the invitation completely. For a while it even looked as if his own mother would likewise not attend, even in a specially purchased invalid carriage. It would shame her to be seen so incapacitated, Emily said. She felt ill whenever she was moved. She complained of feeling giddy and light-headed, decidedly off-colour. Her usually robust appetite diminished and she began to leave food untouched on her plate and was frequently observed suffering bouts of furiously silent tears.
Bella expressed her own reservations to Edward about his plans, attempting to ascertain whether his love would be firm enough to withstand the opprobrium the couple would undoubtedly suffer in consequence of Jinnie’s arrest. She pointed out that there was no guarantee that her past history wouldn’t be discovered eventually. Edward declared himself perfectly immune to anyone’s opinion on Jinnie but his own.
‘Good for you. I simply want you to appreciate that it isn’t going to be an easy day, let alone an easy future for either of you,’ Bella astutely commented. ‘What with Father not speaking to me, and mother certain to throw a tantrum or suffer some affliction or other at the eleventh hour, we’ll all need to tread warily.’
‘I think you do Ma a disservice. I’ve explained everything to her and she made no comment whatsoever which, if I may say so, is generous of her.’
Bella chuckled. ‘Sounds more like a smouldering volcano to me.’
The volcano erupted, exactly as predicted, the morning before the big day. Tilly, who took Emily her breakfast up as usual, was heard to scream and the tray she was carrying came crashing to the floor. It sounded, Edward told Bella the moment she came rushing over from Jacob’s Court, as if the sky had indeed fallen in, or the bedroom chandelier at the very least. Poor Mother, it appeared, had apparently suffered a further seizure and been found on the rug, having fallen out of bed.
Dr Lisle was naturally sent for at once. He prodded, poked and peered at his patient, tut-tutted and clucked like some fussy old hen (Bella’s description), ordered milk sops, a fire in the bedroom and complete bed rest. On no account must she be moved, nor given any sort of shock as she would certainly not survive it. It was, he declared, the scandal of a hasty wedding which had affected her heart.
‘No, only her temper,’ Bella drily commented, earning herself a chill glance of reproof. It was the first time she’d spoken to Dr Lisle since their trip to the Picture House, yet still he offered no sort of apology for his infamous behaviour.
‘And she will, of course, Miss Ashton, require constant and careful nursing.’
Bella did not need to ask whom he had in mind for the post. ‘Perhaps,’ she artfully suggested, ‘if Mother is as bad as you say, she should be in hospital benefiting from qualified medical care. Perhaps
I
am not up to the task.’ Privately she began to wonder about Dr Nathaniel Lisle’s own skills as a physician if one female patient could hoodwink him so easily, first over a stroke which was either fabricated or at best nothing like so bad as her mother made out, and now the discovery of a supposedly weak heart. The timing of both was suspiciously convenient.
‘Indeed that will not be necessary so do not imagine you can escape your duty in that manner,’ he tartly informed her.
Bella bit down hard on her lower lip and managed to refrain from comment, knowing any attempt at further argument would be fruitless. When Dr Lisle had gone she persuaded Edward and a stony-faced Simeon to go to work as usual, since there was no reason why they should all risk losing their jobs too. After that, Bella got Tilly to make up a fire in the bedroom while she herself tried to tempt her mother with a little bread soaked in warm milk, as directed. The patient’s lips remained clamped shut.
‘Will there be anything else, miss?’ Tilly asked, still tearful from shock.
‘No thank you, Tilly. I’m most grateful for your help. Go and have your own breakfast now, and a nice cup of strong, sweet tea.’
When the bedroom door had closed for the last time Bella drew a chair up to the bed and sat calmly upon it, folded her hands upon her lap and began to address the still figure lying prone beneath the bedclothes. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, Mother, but though you may fool the doctor, I am well aware that there is nothing whatsoever the matter with you.’ She paused, watching for any reaction but, apart from a sharpening of interest in the icy glare, there was none.
‘You see, I happened to return to your bedroom on one occasion. I forget quite why, but when I ventured further into the room I found, to my surprise, an empty bed and discovered you to be in the bathroom where you had presumably walked unaided. Oh, your back was towards the door so you didn’t see me but it was a most enlightening experience. As a result, I confess my sympathy has been somewhat clouded by this knowledge which, so far, I’ve managed to keep to myself.’
The eyes now were riveted upon her face, blazing like hot coals against the pallor of cheeks hollowed from lack of sustenance. The mouth opened slightly then closed again, rather like a stranded fish seeking air. Not a sound came out.
Bella continued in the same, calm tone. ‘Tomorrow is an important day for Edward. He is to marry the girl he loves. Whether Jinnie would be your choice, or even mine, though I happen to be rather fond of her, is quite beside the point. She is Edward’s choice. He wants Jinnie for his wife and I, for one, rejoice in his happiness. I shall make sure that I am present at my brother’s wedding in order to wish them both a long and happy life together. And today, Mother, is to be a very important day for you. Today you are to make a miraculous recovery.’
Now a sound did come from the bed, spluttering, strangulated, outraged, unformed noises which bore no relation to any words Bella knew, or cared to translate.
‘Indeed, spurred on by your great desire to attend the imminent nuptials of your darling son, you will rise from your bed, take an excellent luncheon served at a table by the window here in your room, in order to renew your much depleted strength, and after a short afternoon nap you will
walk
, with suitable assistance for the sake of appearances, down the stairs to the parlour and take tea. Tomorrow, Mother dear, you will be seated in the front pew to witness your only son ‘getting spliced’, as dear Violet would say.’
The outrage finally boiled over. ‘
Never
!’
‘Oh, I think you will discover that already you are beginning to feel much better; that this wasn’t a second seizure at all but a reversal of the first, and really your heart is quite sound.’ Bella got to her feet and quietly replaced the chair in the window embrasure. ‘Because should you suffer a further ‘relapse’, shall we say, then I will be forced to give a full and detailed account of the true nature of your ‘illness’ which we both appreciate would alienate Edward and drive him even further from your side.
‘Whatever you hoped to achieve by this foolish ploy, has failed utterly. I would go so far as to warn you, Mother, that if you don’t suffer a suitably swift and complete recovery, you could well end your days mouldering in this room visited by no one but Tilly until the end of your days.’
The wedding ceremony was duly reported in the
Manchester Guardian
, the article remarking that there were less than a dozen guests at the simple service including the groom, Edward Robert Ashton, son of the manager of Collins Mill and his bride Jane Cook, known as Jinnie to her friends.
The groom’s sister, Isabella Ashton, well known for her work at a Mothers’ Clinic in one of the poorer districts of the city, attended her. Dan Howarth acted as best man. Other guests included Miss Ashton’s colleague Dr Sydney Palmer and Mr and Mrs Cyril Howarth, together with a handful of neighbours. The family retainers occupied a back pew. The blushing bride, given away by Simeon Ashton himself, looked fragile and pretty in cream satin with a bandeau of bud roses about her forehead and carrying a spray of orchids. All present expressed astonished delight at how brave it was of Mrs Emily Ashton, who has suffered a long and debilitating illness, to venture outdoors on this, the very first day from her sick room following her amazing recovery. After a hearty wedding breakfast, the happy couple departed by train for a honeymoon in Colwyn Bay.
In the weeks following the wedding, Bella felt decidedly unsettled. Ever since their meeting by the docks when she’d accepted Quinn’s explanation of his relationship with Jinnie, they’d continued to meet almost every week. She did not discuss the matter any further with Jinnie who remained in ignorance of their liaison. It was Bella’s secret which she kept entirely to herself, partly out of a sense of disloyalty to her friend who’d warned her off Quinn but also because she had no wish to have her belief in him challenged.
Even so, Bella knew he was wrong for her, that the relationship could lead to trouble. She would occasionally attempt to free herself of her obsession and deliberately not go to an appointed meeting. But the very next Sunday evening on the dot of seven, she could usually be seen hurrying to Dawney’s Hill, impatient not to be late in case he didn’t wait for her. Rain or fine that was where they met. Bella refused absolutely to go to his house on Bromley Street, for all his attempts at persuasion. Being outside in the cold or the wet meant that nothing too intimate could take place between them. It was Bella’s only form of protection, a safety net against her own weakness, provided by the uncertainties of Manchester weather.
Even so, the dangers of their relationship were only too real. The power of his hands upon her over-sensitised skin, his demanding mouth warm upon hers, the very sight of him striding along the road towards her would turn her limbs to liquid fire and leave her helpless with desire. She set few barriers beyond that of ultimate surrender for all she longed to do so, and there were times when Bella thought she’d go mad in her efforts not to give in to that need.
And always there was the guilt.
He was not the man for her. She knew this. Every waking hour she scolded herself for her shaming behaviour. Yet how could she resist? Billy Quinn had awakened in her an appetite that was new and dangerously exciting; one she felt quite unable to quench.
Bella continued to live with Violet and her rumbustious family but her welcome, she ruefully admitted, was perhaps wearing a little thin. Violet was as warm and friendly as ever, Cyril Howarth of course made no comment upon the situation and the children dashed in and out of the overcrowded house, too caught up in their own lives to care one way or the other.
But despite an attempt to patch up the quarrel between herself and Dan, relations remained difficult. He seemed to be in a constant sulk and rarely spent more than a half hour in the house if she were there, save during meal times when he would take any opportunity to snipe at her.
‘Don’t forget, Bella doesn’t care for tripe or pig’s trotters,’ he’d remind Violet, ‘her never needing to acquire such a lowbrow taste.’ And on another occasion, ‘Don’t expect Bella to eat that brawn yer making, Mother. She’s used to grander fare.’