Without Sin (17 page)

Unable to face breakfast on the Monday morning, she was about to slip out of the gate when she heard Albert’s voice.

‘ ’Morning, lass. Now, you weren’t going off wi’out saying ta-ta to me, were you?’

Meg sighed inwardly and turned to face the old man limping towards her. She tried to smile, opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a word, he said, ‘Aw, lass, what’s
wrong? You ill?’

Meg bit her lip and shook her head. ‘No,’ she said huskily. ‘I didn’t sleep too well.’

‘Ah!’ was all the old man said, but somehow he managed to put such a depth of understanding into that one sound that Meg’s eyes filled with tears. Impatiently, she dashed them
away with the back of her hand, determined not to let anyone see her cry. At least, anyone other than Jake.

She glanced at Albert and saw the sympathy in the old man’s rheumy eyes. ‘You – you know, don’t you?’

Albert nodded.

Bitterly, Meg said, ‘I suppose everyone knows.’

‘Aye well, you can’t keep secrets, lass, in a place like this. But look at it this way, yer mam’ll be well looked after. I’ll say that for ’im, if he teks to a
young woman, he treats ’em well, treats ’em fair. And I’ll tell you summat else an’ all, he doesn’t cast ’em aside when he’s done wi’ ’em
either. He sets ’em up in some nice little job that should see them all right for the rest of their days, so to speak.’

‘That’s what Jake said,’ Meg murmured.

‘Well, ’e’s right.’

Meg bit her lip, but the words would not be held in. ‘But it’s the shame, Albert. How could she? My
mother
? That’s not how she’s always brought us—’
She pulled in a shuddering breath when the appalling truth hit her. She was now the only child left. ‘It’s not how she’s always brought
me
up to behave.’

‘No, lass, I don’t expect she did. But life has dealt her a lot of bitter blows lately, hasn’t it? She’s down there –’ he pointed towards the ground –
‘in the depths of despair and old Pendleton can be very kind when he wants to be.’

Meg turned away. They all seemed to be on Isaac Pendleton’s side. No one seemed to understand how she felt. But she answered Albert politely. ‘Thank you for talking to me,
Albert.’

‘Tha’s all right, lass. Any time.’

As she walked away from the shadow of the workhouse towards the town, the young girl’s mind was in a turmoil. She could scarcely take in all that had happened. And she still couldn’t
believe what they were saying about her mother.

Her little family had been hard-working, honest, trustworthy and loving towards one another. And now, in the space of only a few weeks, her father had deserted them for a pretty face and a
flighty nature. Because of his betrayal, not only of his family, but of his employers too, they had lost their home and their livelihood and faced the shame of the workhouse. Another baby had been
lost and then poor little Bobbie had died. Yet Meg knew she could have faced all that if only she still had her mother. But what Sarah had done was beyond forgiveness. Meg had felt bitter and
unforgiving towards her father, but it was nothing compared to how she now felt about her mother.

As she neared the shop and saw Mr Rodwell opening up the door, Meg made herself a promise.
I’ll see mi mam tonight and, if it’s true what they’re saying, then that’s
it. I don’t want anything to do with her ever again.

And I’ll tell her so.

Meg worked hard that day, throwing herself into each task with a kind of desperation. She was aware of Percy’s anxious glances and knew he could sense that something was
not quite right. But he said nothing; perhaps he thought the cause was ‘women’s troubles’, a subject far too delicate for any man, especially a bachelor, to approach.

Meg worked on, never pausing to give herself time to think, to dwell on the hardships and disappointments life was throwing at her. The only person she spared a brief thought for was Jake, but
even thinking of him starting his new job at the farm revived her own bitter memories. She unpacked all the new stock as it arrived and arranged it. She dressed the right-hand window, which Percy
had now given over to ladies’ wear. She stayed on long after the shop had closed to sweep and tidy up and she even made a start on the storerooms above, in the hope that she could persuade
Percy to let the rooms to her. If only she had a proper home for her mam to come to, she was sure that she could persuade Sarah to leave Isaac Pendleton. Meg still hadn’t given up hope
entirely.

‘There’s a lot of stuff up there, Mr Rodwell. Is it to be thrown out?’

‘Oh, dear me, no. I couldn’t throw any of it away. I mean, someone might ask for something one day . . .’

Despite her inner unhappiness, Meg found herself smiling. When pigs might fly, she thought, but said demurely, ‘How about offering some of the things for sale at less money? I mean, you
could even put some in the window showing the marked-down price. You know how the farmers who come into the town on market day love a bargain. And they’re not the sort to want fancy
clothes.’ She giggled mischievously and her green eyes twinkled at him. ‘Some of those long johns I’ve carted upstairs to the storerooms are just what the old farmers still wear.
I used to see Mr Smallwood’s hanging on the line on wash day.’

Percy stared at her. ‘Do you know, Miss Kirkland, I think you could be right. How clever of you to think of it. We’ll do it. Yes – yes – we’ll do it.’

Late in the afternoon the shop bell clanged and Meg looked up, hoping that it was a female customer for her to serve. In spite of her own worries, she really enjoyed serving in the shop, guiding
the customers towards their purchases, giving an honest appraisal, handing out compliments when something was just right, a tactful, ‘Perhaps you might like to try this instead . . .’
when something really didn’t suit.

‘Always try to be honest with your customers, but do it in such a way that they hardly notice that you’re really saying, “That looks absolutely dreadful and I wouldn’t
let you walk out of my shop wearing it in a hundred years,”’ Percy had taught her. It had made her laugh when he had said it. Today she didn’t feel like laughing, but she
plastered a welcoming smile on to her face as she glanced up to see who had entered the shop.

Her smile faded when she saw Clara Finch advancing towards the counter, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her lips pursed to nothingness.

‘My dear,’ Percy greeted her, hurrying out from behind his counter. ‘What a nice surprise.’

‘I don’t think it will be, Percy, when I’ve said my piece.’

Percy gave a nervous laugh. ‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous. What have I done now?’ His tone was jovial and yet Meg had the feeling that there was a hint of truth in his statement, as
if he often did things that displeased his fiancée.

‘It’s not so much what
you’ve
done, Percy, but you are perhaps guilty of a lapse in common sense.’

He looked perplexed. Miss Finch’s gaze was fixed on Meg’s face and slowly Percy followed suit. Under their scrutiny, Meg could not prevent the colour rising into her face, but she
lifted her chin defiantly and stared back at the woman.

‘Look at her, Percy. Just look at that bold, brazen look. My goodness, girl, you’ve a lot to learn. But, if I have any say in the matter, you won’t be learning it in this
establishment. Oh, dear me, no.’

‘Clara, my dear, whatever’s the matter? And what has it to do with Miss Kirkland?’

‘I’ve just had a visit from Miss Pendleton.’ The lips pursed even tighter. ‘The wretched woman seems to think that she has some right to be called a friend of the family,
when really –’ she broke off and muttered – ‘but that’s another matter.’ She cleared her throat and said loudly, ‘My brother has some standing in the
community and I pride myself too that I am a respectable, God-fearing woman—’

‘My dear, of course you are. Who could doubt that fact?’ Percy murmured. He had now looked away from Meg and was anxiously scanning the face of his intended.

Clara turned her eyes accusingly upon Percy for a moment, and under their steely gaze he blinked rapidly. ‘You seem to have forgotten that fact when you brought this – this hussy to
work in your establishment. It reflects on me as your future wife whom you employ, you know.’

Percy gasped. ‘Oh, now come, my dear. Miss Kirkland is doing very nicely. The customers – the lady customers, that is – seem most pleased with how she—’

‘Do they indeed? You surprise me, Percy. But then, perhaps I ought not to be surprised. Perhaps they do not know what
I
know.’

‘What – what you know, Clara?’ Percy stuttered, any composure he’d tried to cling to now draining away.

‘Yes, Percy. What I know. I don’t suppose she has told you herself, has she?’

Percy glanced briefly at Meg and quailed afresh. The girl’s face was fiery with embarrassment, but there was now a spark of defiant anger in those fine green eyes. He felt trapped between
the two of them and feared an unseemly scene. Respectable though his fiancée claimed to be, he’d once witnessed her screaming like a fishwife when one of her housemaids had committed
some offence. The experience had unnerved him and made him unwilling to set a firm date for their wedding.

‘No,’ Clara continued, ‘I see that she has not.’

‘Erm,’ Percy began, glancing worriedly from one to the other, his greatest fear that a customer would enter the shop. ‘Perhaps you would like to go into the workroom to talk
together. It would be better—’

‘What I have to say can be said here, Percy. I don’t mind who hears me.’

‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ Percy muttered.

‘What did you say?’ Clara flashed at him.

‘Nothing, my dear,’ Percy said mildly, but the worried frown did not leave his forehead.

‘Well, then.’ Clara turned her attention back to Meg. ‘What have you to say for yourself, miss?’

Meg took a deep breath and willed herself to speak calmly and respectfully. This was her employer’s fiancée. Percy would side with Clara. It was natural. So, she, Meg, would have to
be very careful what she said and how she said it. ‘Miss Finch, I can hardly bring myself to speak of it, it pains me so much. To think that my own mother would act in such a way.’ Meg
hung her head as if she bore the full burden of guilt. ‘How am I ever to hold my head up again in respectable society?’ she whispered, trying desperately to give the impression that she
was throwing herself upon the other woman’s mercy. For a moment it seemed as if she might have succeeded, for Miss Finch appeared nonplussed by the girl’s dignified answer. But Clara
was not yet finished. Her mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘And then, of course, there was your father running off with a girl half his age.’

Meg kept her eyes downcast and her chin trembled. She nodded and allowed tears to splash onto her hands, which she gripped tightly in front of her. Her voice husky, she said, ‘I know. Oh,
Miss Finch, I hardly know how to bear it all. If it hadn’t been for the kindness of Mr Rodwell putting his trust in me, then – then I truly believe I would not have wanted to live any
longer . . .’ She raised her eyes, brimming with tears. ‘But surely a Christian woman like yourself can see that none of it is my fault. What can I do? What
can
I do?’

‘There, there, my dear girl,’ Percy interposed. ‘We’ll say no more about it. Erm – whatever it is.’ Percy was still partially in the dark. He had no idea what
the two women were talking about. He could only murmur, ‘Please, don’t distress yourself.’

Clara whirled around to face him. ‘Her mother has become Isaac Pendleton’s latest – latest
paramour
.’

Percy blinked and stared down at her for a moment. Then he glanced at Meg and back again to Clara.

‘Well?’ Clara demanded. ‘What have you to say about
that
?’

Percy frowned and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Erm, well. I don’t really think it is any of our business, my dear. Not really.’

‘Not – our – business?’ Clara’s voice was rising shrilly and Percy put out his hands, palms outwards, trying to placate her.

‘What I mean is – as Miss Kirkland says – it is not her fault—’

‘One is judged by the company one keeps,’ Clara said piously. ‘People will talk, Percy. Believe you me, people will talk and your customers, at least all the
lady
customers you are hoping to attract, will go elsewhere.’

For a moment Percy looked helpless and then, gripping the tape measure that always dangled around his neck during working hours, he straightened up and declared, ‘Well, I’ll just
have to take that risk, won’t I, my dear? I am not prepared to punish this poor girl for something that she hasn’t done. She is to be pitied, not blamed.’

Now it was Clara’s face that coloured, so vividly her complexion was almost purple. ‘Well, really!’ was all she could utter for a few moments. Then the tirade began. ‘You
disappoint me, Percy. I would have hoped for better things from you, really I would—’ The shop doorbell clanged and a woman entered the shop, but Clara, in full flow now, did not
notice. ‘How can you even consider employing a girl with such connections? Bad blood will out, Percy. Mark my words, it’s in the breed.’ On and on she ranted until even the woman
who had entered the shop began to look embarrassed and seemed about to leave.

Meg moved around the counter, eased her way past Clara and stepped towards the newcomer. ‘May I help you, madam?’ she asked politely as if nothing untoward was going on behind
her.

The woman glanced towards Clara. ‘I – er—’ she began hesitantly. ‘I was looking for a new hat. I understand that Mr Rodwell is beginning to stock ladies’
fashions and I wondered . . .’

Meg shook her head apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, madam. At the moment we don’t stock hats although we may do so in the future.’ Meg spoke carefully, smoothing out the local
dialect from her speech. ‘But we do have a wonderful selection of undergarments, if you would care to take a look,’ she added hopefully.

But the customer shook her head, stepped backwards and fumbled for the door handle. Casting one last look towards Clara, she murmured, ‘Perhaps another time . . .’ turned and hurried
out.