Читать книгу The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl - Nancy Carson - Страница 27

Bellamy Crawford would have called at Aunt Phoebe’s on the following Monday evening, had he not risked appearing too keen to see Poppy. So he left it till the following evening, the Tuesday, another mucky, drizzly night. He walked from Tansley House with his collar turned up to keep out the damp and cold. Esther opened the front door to him and took his wet coat while he complained about the weather and thanked her for her attention.

‘I saw you were at Miss Silk’s party, Esther. Did you enjoy it?’

‘Oh, yes, sir, thank you, sir. It was a grand night.’

From another room towards the rear of the house he could hear the stilted endeavours of an unpractised pianist, while Esther led him into the drawing room where Aunt Phoebe was sitting, attached to her embroidery.

‘Good evening, Aunt.’

‘Bellamy! What a pleasant surprise.’ Carefully, she put down her work and stood up to welcome her nephew. ‘Fancy venturing out on a night like this.’

‘Please, don’t get up, Aunt … Here, I’ve brought you flowers.’

‘Roses. Good gracious!’

‘Well, I thought it might behove me to come and say thank you for the splendid evening on Saturday. I had a glorious time.’

‘Thank you, Bellamy. They’re beautiful. Are they for me, or for Miss Silk?’

Bellamy grinned sheepishly. ‘For both of you, of course.’

‘Do sit down … I’ll lay them on the table and ring for Esther to put them in some water … Yes, it seems to have been a very successful evening. At least we achieved its objective of celebrating Poppy’s birthday.’

‘Isn’t she delightful?’ Bellamy said. ‘I was so pleasantly surprised. I must say I quite took to her.’ He felt himself colouring up at the admission.

‘Can you take to her piano playing?’ Aunt Phoebe said with a bright laugh, cocking an ear. ‘That’s her, practising her scales.’

‘Is she not accomplished already?’

‘Not in piano playing. But she’s a trier. I believe she has a feeling for the piano, but we’re all fingers and thumbs when we begin to learn.’

He gave a polite little laugh. ‘Indeed, yes, Aunt.’

‘How are your dear mother and father? I trust they enjoyed the party as well?’

‘Oh, indeed, Aunt. As did Oliver and Clare. No doubt they will send you a note.’

‘No doubt.’ Aunt Phoebe wanted to say that no doubt that was all she would get. Certainly not a visit. Neither was she fooled by Bellamy’s calling tonight with roses. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, Bellamy? Or even something stronger?’

‘Do you have chocolate, Aunt?’

‘I believe so.’

Esther entered, responding to the bell, and looked enquiringly at her mistress.

‘Esther, would you take these roses that Mr Crawford has kindly brought and make an arrangement of them? But first, bring us hot chocolate and Poppy. Mr Bellamy is dying for one or the other.’

Esther smothered her amusement. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Thank you, Aunt,’ Bellamy said when Esther had gone. ‘Of course, both will be welcome. But it would be odious of me to declare which will be the more so.’

‘Oh, I think I can hazard a guess. As I was saying, it was good to see you all at Poppy’s party. I see all too little of the Crawfords these days.’

‘I shall try and correct that oversight, Aunt, given your permission.’

Poppy put her head round the door and smiled, wide-eyed, when she saw Bellamy.

‘We have a visitor, Poppy,’ Aunt Phoebe announced. ‘Or more accurately, I think, you have a visitor.’

‘Poppy …’ Bellamy looked her up and down admiringly, and a lump came to his throat as he stood for her. ‘No, my eyes did not deceive me on Saturday, even though my memory has been playing diabolical tricks. You are just as lovely as I thought you were.’

‘Thank you, Bellamy.’ She blushed becomingly.

‘But, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what you looked like, you know … Have you ever experienced that, Aunt? You meet somebody. You know she is divinely lovely, but you can’t seem to remember her face. That’s how it was with my memory of you, Poppy.’

‘Fancy.’ Poppy was not sure how to respond to this compliment.

‘I’ve just asked Esther to bring us chocolate, my dear.’

‘Oh, thank you, Aunt Phoebe. I love chocolate.’ Poppy sat on the sofa opposite Bellamy, wearing one of the many everyday dresses she now possessed, her hands demurely in her lap, her back erect. ‘I’ve just written a note to your mother and father, Bellamy, to thank them for the lovely Bible they gave me for my birthday, which was chosen by Robert’s fiancée. If you’ll take it with you when you go, it’ll save me posting it in the morning.’

‘Of course, Poppy. Happy to oblige.’

‘I was just about to ask Bellamy, Poppy, what news from Robert?’ Aunt Phoebe turned to Bellamy. ‘I barely had an opportunity to ask your mother.’

‘His last letter told us he was well. He lost one of his colleagues to yellow fever, you know. I think that rather made him wonder at the logic of going to such a backward, disease-ridden country in the first place.’

‘Do you think he might catch it as well?’ Poppy asked, concerned. ‘This yellow fever?’

‘Let’s hope and pray he returns unscathed, Poppy, and sees the sense in joining the family firm. It seems idiotic not to when there is no doubt that he will wed upon his return.’

Poppy’s heart sank. ‘Has he said so in any of his letters?’

‘Not in so many words. But, reading between the lines, I should say he’s anxious to get back. That can only mean he’s missing his fiancée. And why not? She’s such an angel, and they’re such an appropriate match … for both our families.’

Aunt Phoebe flashed a concerned glance at Poppy, trying to read her reaction.

‘In what way is it such a good match?’ asked Poppy, uneasy at this information.

‘Because they are both good and kind people. And for no other reason than because our two families are inextricably linked financially.’

‘Forgive me a moment,’ Aunt Phoebe said, tactfully rising from her seat. ‘I’ll go and see what Esther is up to. I have an awful feeling she will make a dog’s dinner of the roses, unless I show her how it’s done. And Poppy hasn’t seen them yet, have you, my dear?’

‘No, Aunt.’

For a few long seconds after Aunt Phoebe had left the room, Poppy and Bellamy were stuck for words. She smiled at him unsurely, the similarity in his looks poignantly reminding her of Robert. If only it was Robert sitting there looking at her so covetously.

‘It’s a foul night outside,’ he said at last, stymied for more stimulating conversation. ‘Had it been fine and dry, I would have ventured to ask if you’d care to take a walk with me.’

‘I would have to ask Aunt Phoebe’s permission first, Bellamy,’ she responded.

‘Actually, the flowers were intended for you, Poppy, but I could hardly not include Aunt Phoebe.’

‘Oh, it’s good of you to include her. She’s the one who deserves them, not me.’

‘I … enjoyed your company enormously on Saturday night, Poppy. Our dancing together. Our chat.’

‘So did I.’

‘There’s a refreshing frankness, a candour about you that seems to be lacking in other girls I’ve met. You have no airs and graces, yet you are all graciousness. Besides which, you’re such fun and so easy to talk to.’

‘It’s good of you to say so.’

‘Not at all …’ He paused, looking self-consciously at the patterns in the burning coals. ‘I wrote to you, you know …’

‘When? I never got a letter.’

He laughed with self-derision. ‘I know. I threw the damned thing in the fire. I felt it better to come and ask you face to face.’

‘Ask me what?’

‘Oh … Ask if you would care to accompany me on a drive … On Sunday. After dinner, perhaps? Always assuming the weather is not too inclement. It would give me the greatest personal pleasure if you would consent …’

‘That would be very nice, I’m sure, Bellamy. But I must ask Aunt Phoebe first.’

‘No, no, Poppy. If you are agreeable – and it seems you are – then I will ask Aunt Phoebe. It’s my place to ask.’

‘All right,’ she said brightly. ‘But where will we go?’

‘Anywhere you’ve a fancy. Do you have a fancy for anywhere in particular?’

‘From my bedroom window I can see the Clent Hills. They look ever so green and inviting now spring is just around the corner. So different from the filthy drabness of the slag heaps and the sooty sky. I’d love to go there, just to see what it’s like. If it’s not too far.’

Aunt Phoebe returned at that, carrying a cut-glass vase containing the arrangement of roses. ‘There. Aren’t they beautiful, Poppy? Intended primarily for you, I suspect.’ She looked benignly but knowingly at Bellamy.

‘Aunt Phoebe …’

‘Yes, Bellamy?’

‘Aunt Phoebe … Do I have your permission to take Poppy for a drive on Sunday afternoon? She is quite agreeable to the suggestion, so long as you give your permission.’

Aunt Phoebe turned her gaze on Poppy. ‘If Poppy is of a mind to accompany you, then I have no objection.’

‘Thank you, Aunt Phoebe. Thank you. Shall we say two o’clock on Sunday, then, Poppy?’

Poppy grinned, complimented by his attention. ‘Yes. Sunday.’

The following evening, while Aunt Phoebe was instructing Poppy on the lineage of the Stuarts, another admirer paid a visit.

‘My dear Cecil!’ Aunt Phoebe greeted when he was shown into her sitting room. ‘How lovely of you to call and see us, it being only last Saturday that we saw you last.’

Captain Tyler chose to remain indifferent to his cousin’s mild sarcasm, realising what she was implying. ‘Good evening, Phoebe. And good evening to you, Miss Silk. I came to thank you both for the wonderful party the other evening. A splendid do.’

‘So you enjoyed it. Pray, do sit down, Cecil. Let me offer you a drink. Would you like tea?’

‘I’d prefer something stronger if you have it, Phoebe. You know me.’

‘Whisky?’

‘Whisky’s fine. Thank you.’

Aunt Phoebe smiled, glad of the opportunity to get out the whisky bottle a little earlier than she normally would.

‘Poppy, would you be so kind as to pour Captain Tyler a glass of whisky, please? And I’ll have a small one myself.’

‘Of course, Aunt,’ Poppy replied biddably, and stepped over to the drinks cabinet.

‘Poppy and I were just discussing Charles the Second,’ Aunt Phoebe said conversationally.

‘Then no doubt she will be glad of some relief,’ Captain Tyler replied dryly. ‘Shall you partake of a little whisky yourself, Miss Silk?’

Poppy looked up at their guest and smiled politely. ‘I seldom drink spirits, Captain Tyler.’

‘I don’t blame you. Ruins the complexion, drinking spirits. And you, my dear Miss Silk, have a fine complexion that is far too precious to ruin. Has she not, dear Phoebe?’

‘I had such a complexion myself when I was younger.’

‘Would you like water in that, Captain Tyler?’ Poppy asked, holding the glass up to show him.

‘Oh, indeed not, thank you, Miss Silk. I’ll take it as it comes. Neat whisky doesn’t scare me, you know.’ He grinned affably. ‘Comes from years of drinking gallons of dreadfully dubious liquors, veritable firewaters – especially in Ireland.’

Poppy handed him his glass and he thanked her. She poured a small one for Aunt Phoebe and sat down again primly. Conversation swung between the health of Captain Tyler’s ailing mother and the prosperity of the factory which Aunt Phoebe owned. Until Aunt Phoebe saw fit to let him know that Poppy had had a visitor the previous evening, merely to discourage him from thinking he could unreservedly pursue her charge himself. He was much too old for her, after all.

‘Young Bellamy Crawford called on Poppy last evening, you know, Cecil. It was such a surprise to see him … And yet no surprise at all when you consider the similarity in their ages, don’t you think?’

‘Indeed,’ Captain Tyler replied nobly, picking up the hint. ‘I gained the distinct impression that he was full of admiration for Miss Silk … May I call you Poppy, Miss Silk? It’s so much less formal.’

‘Oh, please do, Captain Tyler.’

‘Thank you … And I was about to say, why shouldn’t he admire you if he’s so minded? You are a fine-looking young lady, Poppy. If I were him, I would have no scruples in indulging my admiration to the full.’

‘Well, he’s indulging his on Sunday afternoon, Cecil. Isn’t he, Poppy dear?’

Poppy smiled pleasantly and nodded. ‘Except that I think maybe Bellamy is always likely to choose the wrong woman for himself.’

‘Oh, in what way do you mean?’

‘Just that if I were him, I would hardly be so impetuous. Besides, I would be looking for a rich girl … If I were him.’

‘I must confess,’ Captain Tyler replied, ‘that money would never enter into it where I was concerned. I consider a person’s character a much more important qualifier.’

‘You mean irrespective of their standing?’ Aunt Phoebe asked.

‘Financial or social. It matters not a jot. But things are somewhat different for a man. A woman, on the other hand, is prone to accepting the hand of her wealthiest admirer. If he’s handsome to boot, then so much the better for her.’

The doorbell rang again and Aunt Phoebe glanced with puzzlement at Poppy. ‘Who could that be? Not Bellamy again, I trust.’

As Esther answered the door, they listened. Besides Esther’s voice they heard only the voice of another woman, which Poppy recognised. The door to the sitting room opened and Esther announced that a Miss Catchpole had called to see Poppy.

‘Minnie!’ Poppy exclaimed and shot up eagerly from her seat to greet her friend. ‘Minnie, come in. What brings you here?’

‘Well, I got the right house, by the looks o’ things. Hello, Poppy. And you must be Aunt Phoebe …’

‘Miss Catchpole, how nice to meet you at last,’ Aunt Phoebe said, surprised at how decently dressed this young woman was for somebody of her background. She was thus more inclined to welcome her into her home. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

‘And I’ve heard a lot about you an’ all.’

‘This is my cousin Captain Tyler, Miss Catchpole … Captain, let me introduce you to Poppy’s friend, Miss Minnie Catchpole.’

‘Delighted, Miss Catchpole. So, you are a friend of Poppy.’

‘Oh, have bin for donkey’s years,’ Minnie affirmed with a grin. ‘I say, Captain, what’s that you’m a-drinkin’?’

‘Whisky. Do you like whisky, Miss Catchpole?’

‘Hey, I love whisky.’ She sat on the sofa beside the Captain. ‘And call me Min. I ain’t one for all this Miss Catchpole malarkey.’

‘As you wish, Minnie. And you can call me Cecil.’

‘Cecil?’ Minnie’s distaste for his name showed on her face. ‘No, I’d rather call yer Captain, I think. I like the sound o’ that better.’

He grinned. ‘Then Captain it is.’

‘Would you like me to pour you a glass of whisky, Minnie?’ Poppy asked.

‘Yes, if you can spare a drop.’

Poppy handed her a glass.

‘Ta, my wench.’ She took a good slurp.

‘You didn’t come to my party, Minnie. I wondered what had happened to you.’

‘I know. I’ve come to say sorry. I got me a lovely frock an’ all.’

‘So why didn’t you come? You’d have loved it.’

‘Well, to tell you the truth, it was ’cause I wun’t’ve knowed nobody else, only you, Poppy. And I knowed all the chaps would be wanting to dance with yer. I din’t want to be no wallflower.’

‘You’d have been no wallflower, Minnie, I’ll be bound,’ Captain Tyler remarked amiably. ‘We’d have wanted to dance with you as well, us men. No doubt, you would have looked absolutely exquisite in your new dress. You could most certainly have marked your card with my name … several times over … had it pleased you to do so.’

Minnie smiled interestedly at this man who was charming, a quality that had been missing in other men she’d known. And he was so much older than she was. ‘That’s kind of yer to say so, Captain. And I don’t see why I shouldn’t mark me card wi’ your name, neither. I bet you’m a good dancer an’ all, ain’t yer?’

‘Tolerably light on my feet, Minnie. I manage to get around the floor without too much stumbling.’

Minnie laughed. ‘’Cept when you’ve had a few, eh?’ She gave him a friendly nudge.

‘Indeed, Minnie.’ Now Captain Tyler laughed heartily. ‘Except when I’ve had a few, as you suggest.’

‘Poppy, I bought yer a present for your birthday.’ Minnie felt in the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a smallish wrapped cube.

‘Thank you, Minnie. What is it?’

‘Open it and see. I thought it’d be useful.’

All eyes were focused on Poppy as she opened the package. At last she removed all the wrapping and held it up to inspect it.

‘An ink stand!’ she exclaimed with joy.

‘Wi’ silver cap and base. Hallmarked, an’ all,’ Minnie added proudly, and took another swig of whisky.

‘Oh, thank you, Min. That’s going to be most useful.’

Min licked her lips. ‘I reckoned as much, what with all the writing you must be doing these days.’

‘A fine gift,’ Aunt Phoebe confirmed, realising it must have been expensive. ‘It’s very good of you, Minnie.’

‘She’s worth it, Aunt Phoebe, my mate Poppy.’

The four continued with enlivening conversation. Captain Tyler was struck by Minnie’s artless chatter and her unpretentious manner. He teased her gently and made her laugh, and she made the others laugh in turn.

After about an hour, he said, ‘What o’clock is it, I wonder? I’ve left my watch at home. I’ve no wish to drink you clean out of whisky, dear Phoebe, nor outstay my welcome.’

‘I got the time,’ Minnie said helpfully, and pulled out an old and dented fob watch from another pocket in her skirt. She scrutinised it closely. ‘It was me father’s, this. Trouble is, it’s generally either ten minutes slow or twenty minutes fast.’

‘And which is it now?’ Aunt Phoebe queried.

‘Lord knows, Aunt Phoebe. I can never be sure.’

Captain Tyler chuckled. ‘There must be something wrong with its workings.’

‘You reckon, Captain? No wonder I’m either a mile too late or two miles too early for everything.’

‘Would you like me to have a look at it?’ he suggested. ‘I have a certain expertise with watches. I could let you have it back in a very serviceable condition in a day or two.’

‘Well, that’s very good of you, Captain, and no two ways,’ Minnie answered, delighted with the offer, for she would get to see him again when he returned it. ‘When it really plays up rotten I get a hairpin and give it a real good stir up inside.’

He roared. ‘Good Lord. I’m surprised it works at all.’

‘No, it don’t seem to do it no harm. The thing generally behaves itself all right for a week or two after that, neither losin’ nor gainin’ more than five minutes either road. But then it falls back to its old ways.’

‘Inevitably,’ Captain Tyler said. ‘Well, Minnie, you’ve stirred me up, I’m quite prepared to admit. If you are also about to leave the kind hospitality of Mrs Newton and Poppy, I would be happy to convey you home.’

‘That’s very decent of yer, Captain. Save me poor little legs it would, and no two ways. Not to mention me shoe leather.’

‘The pleasure is all mine, Minnie.’ He finished his whisky, put his empty glass on the occasional table in front of him and stood up. ‘Phoebe, dear, it’s been grand to see you again. You, too, Poppy … No don’t bother the maid. I can see Minnie and myself out … If you are ready, Minnie?’

‘Yes, I’m all ready, Captain.’

Baylies’s Charity School lay set back from the road in Tower Street, next door to a public house called The Lord Wellington and backing onto the glassworks in Downing Street. At each end of the early Georgian façade was a door, and set into the wall above each was an alcove in which stood a painted statue of a schoolboy wearing the uniform of blue coat and cap. The school was established in 1732 for the purpose of teaching and clothing fifty boys, chosen from some families of the town who could not afford to pay for their sons’ learning. Poppy, accompanied by Aunt Phoebe, was to meet the superintendent, Reverend James Caulfield Browne, the vicar of St Thomas’s.

The school comprised one classroom, which could be divided into two when needed. A blackboard and easel stood in front of a huge fireplace with a brass fender, a wrought-iron fireguard and a voluminous coal scuttle. The windows were vast and let in plenty of light, but you could not see the road outside because they were set so high in the walls. It was Friday, the boys were hard at work, their chalk sticks squeaking across slates as they wrote. Poppy felt self-conscious that their eyes were following her, however, as she glided across the wooden floor of the classroom to the master’s study, keeping close behind Aunt Phoebe. They exchanged pleasantries and Reverend Browne, who was already acquainted with Aunt Phoebe since she was one of his congregation, invited them to sit down.

‘How old are you, Miss Silk?’ Reverend Browne enquired, peering over his spectacles.

‘Seventeen, sir.’

He wrote it down. ‘Mrs Green, one of our benefactors, has recommended you, Miss Silk. She seems to think you could offer a good and reliable standard of help in our school.’

‘I’m sure I could, sir. I can read and write and do arithmetic.’

‘You would not be required to teach these things, of course, but merely to assist Mr Tromans, our schoolmaster. I am pleased also to have the endorsement of Mrs Newton with whom you reside. I have known you for – what, Mrs Newton? Four years, is it?’

‘Four years it is, Reverend … Tell me, do you still live outside Dudley?’

‘With the express permission of the Bishop, Mrs Newton.’ He put his pen down and leaned back in his chair as if anticipating a lengthy chat. ‘And due, as I’m sure you must be aware, to the insanitary condition of the town.’

‘To my mind, things are improving, Reverend,’ Aunt Phoebe replied, in defence of her home town. ‘At least we have had no cholera epidemic for a number of years.’

‘Indeed, not since eighteen thirty-five. I am often reminded, however, that the graveyard of our beloved St Thomas’s that year was full to overflowing, and the surplus dead of the parish carted to Netherton for burial.’

Aunt Phoebe nodded. ‘Indeed, it was as you say, Reverend.’

Reverend Browne placed his fingertips together as he studied Poppy once more, almost in a gesture of pious prayer, she thought. ‘To return to the matter in hand … Baylies’s Charity School was founded for the purpose of educating boys from poor families, Miss Silk, on the principles of the Christian religion, according to the doctrine and discipline of the United Church of England and Ireland. I take it you attend church regularly?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Poppy confirmed truthfully, though as yet she knew little of the scriptures, and only the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed by heart.

‘Indeed, I have seen you there, come to think of it … I trust you would not be grossly overwhelmed at the prospect of working with so many boys?’

‘Oh, no, sir.’

‘Tell me, are you able to play the harmonium, Miss Silk?’

‘I’m not that good, sir.’

Aunt Phoebe said, ‘Miss Silk has only recently begun piano lessons. But I have every confidence that she will progress quickly.’

‘So what formal education have you had, Miss Silk?’

‘Miss Silk has been having the benefit of private tuition with me for some months, Reverend,’ Aunt Phoebe interjected. ‘Unfortunately, she began her learning late. She has, however, made remarkable progress and would be a valuable asset here, able to help any of the younger pupils.’

‘It is with the younger pupils that we need the extra help, Mrs Newton. A strong academic background is hardly necessary. Merely an ability to read and write, to be trustworthy and reliable, and to understand our Christian discipline.’

‘What hours would Miss Silk be expected to work, Reverend?’

‘From half-past eight in the morning till four o’clock in the afternoon, Mondays to Fridays, and on Saturdays till one.’

Aunt Phoebe pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked first at Poppy, then at Reverend Browne. ‘No, I’m afraid I couldn’t allow her to work such hours, Reverend. Miss Silk is my helpmeet and companion and, with the best will in the world, I could only spare her mornings.’

‘I see,’ the vicar replied, obviously disappointed. He drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him, a pensive look on his face. ‘Such a pity … Look, allow me to bring in Mr Tromans to meet Miss Silk,’ he suggested more brightly. ‘I will discuss with him when you have gone the possibility of employing Miss Silk on mornings only. I will let you know the outcome in due course. I presume you would be free to commence duties straight away, Miss Silk?’

‘Oh, yes, sir.’

He got up from behind the desk and fetched Mr Tromans.

As they walked back to Rowley Road and Cawneybank House – the clarence was not available since Clay was busy greasing the axles – Poppy and Aunt Phoebe discussed the interview. Aunt Phoebe was of the opinion that Reverend Browne considered Poppy suitable for the position and would try and convince the schoolmaster, Mr Tromans, that he could manage with morning help only.

‘That will enable you to continue your learning at home, and still have some time to yourself.’

‘I wouldn’t have dared suggest it, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said. ‘I wouldn’t have even thought about it. Don’t you think it might put them off having me?’

‘I think not, my dear. Having been a teacher for many a long year I am aware of the reality of what is desirable compared to what is possible. It is not uncommon to use pupil teachers in classrooms. All too often it is necessary. For you, so many young boys under one roof could be very tiresome if they are not sufficiently well disciplined. I must say, though, Mr Tromans seemed to keep them on a tight rein. He seemed no fool. If you are offered the position, I’m certain he’ll be fair and respectful towards you.’

They walked on in silence for a while, up the road known as Waddams Pool, with cottages interspersed between factories on both sides, and dotted with dollops of uncleared horse manure. A horse and cart passed on the other side of the road and the carter raised his hat to them with a cheery smile. The sky, however, was like lead and threatened more rain.

‘Maybe we should have taken the omnibus, Poppy.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. A drop of rain won’t hurt us.’

‘I wasn’t thinking so much of the rain as my poor legs.’

‘I remember the men at the railway encampment when they worked in the rain. They always moaned. It made the earth thick with mud and so much heavier to shift, but they shifted it all the same. But the mess they made with their boots after …’

Aunt Phoebe smiled indulgently at her. ‘Those days are gone for you, Poppy, are they not?’

‘Yes, they’re gone, but I don’t ever regret them. I can’t forget them, either. I remember them now with fondness, and the folk who lived and worked there … I wouldn’t want to go back, though. Not when it was always my intention to get out anyhow … I wonder where my poor mother is now, and my sisters and brothers … And Buttercup.’

‘Buttercup,’ Aunt Phoebe mused. ‘I hope some day I might meet this Buttercup. I hope some day I might meet your mother too, and the rest of her children. I wonder what she would say if she saw you now, if she saw the change in you.’

‘She wouldn’t recognise me. Especially not in all these lovely clothes.’

‘Oh, she would. Of course she would. Her own daughter.’

They were passing Tansley House, the home of the Crawfords. It started spitting with rain.

‘Maybe we should knock on the Crawfords’ door and ask if we can shelter from the rain, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said, half-serious.

‘Oh, I think not, Poppy. Tansley House would be my last choice of refuge without an invitation. But you’ll get to see it, no doubt, if you begin to see Bellamy regularly.’

‘I’m not sure that I want to see Bellamy regularly,’ Poppy replied.

‘But such a handsome young man, and with such an assured future. So obviously taken with you. My dear, what girl of seventeen wouldn’t want to be seeing Bellamy regularly?’

‘This girl.’

‘Oh? And why is this girl so different from others?’

Poppy hesitated to say.

‘Go on … There must be a reason …’

‘Because …’ She blushed vividly. ‘Because this girl’s in love with Robert.’ It was the first time she had admitted it to Aunt Phoebe.

Aunt Phoebe turned to look at Poppy and saw her heightened colour. ‘Ah … Of course, I suspected it, so I’m hardly surprised. But you must know it’s futile, my dear, your holding out any hope of landing Robert.’

‘I’m not sure what futile means, Aunt Phoebe, but if it means it’s a waste of time, then I don’t agree. You see, Robert told me he was in love with me as well. And if he was, then I reckon he still is. I’m still in love with him anyway. Why should it be any different for him?’

‘Are you sure he loves you? This is not just merely some young girl’s fancy, is it?’

‘No, Aunt, he told me. And he meant it. He went to Brazil to get away from that girl he’s engaged to, to get away from both of us, so’s he could make his mind up about us. I know he wouldn’t have married me then – I was just a navvy’s daughter – but he loved me all the same. He had to get away to straighten himself out. I do know how hard it is for him having a fiancée already, with his mother and father pressing him to wed her.’

‘Mmm …’ Aunt Phoebe murmured pensively. ‘There’s a ring of truth in what you tell me. I must say, he gave me no clue when he called to see me before he left, but the fact that he wished me to help you lends it some credence now.’

‘It’s true, Aunt Phoebe. I don’t tell lies.’

‘Then, is it fair that you should be going out with Bellamy on Sunday? After all, you could be giving him entirely the wrong impression, falsely raising his hopes, when it’s his brother you’re really interested in.’

‘Oh, I won’t give him any wrong impressions. I won’t lead him on a bit, I promise. But I do like him. He reminds me of Robert.’

‘As I’ve said before, don’t admit to your having known Robert previously. Now … Tell me, Poppy – and I apologise if this sounds a little indelicate – but were you and Robert ever … ever improper?’

‘You mean did we couple, like man and wife?’

Aunt Phoebe gasped. ‘My goodness! What a way you have of expressing things.’

‘I just say things the way they are, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said unapologetically. ‘Anyway, no. We never did that. Not that we didn’t want to … But we never did.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ The older woman uttered a sigh of relief. ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’

At about the same time that Aunt Phoebe and Poppy were walking home under the steely sky of a drab April noon, Minnie Catchpole was holding a piece of bread on a toasting fork in front of the fire, when she heard a knock at her door. She was not expecting anybody in particular, but it could have been any one of half a dozen men who had taken to spending a couple of shillings for her charms at odd times during daylight. She pulled the bread from the fire and put it unfinished onto the plate that was on the table, then went to answer the door.

‘Oh, it’s you, miss.’

‘Yes, it’s me again, Minnie. Are you going to invite me in?’

‘Yes, come in if you want.’

The visitor looked behind her as if checking to see if anybody was watching, and stepped over the threshold with a basket over her arm.

‘I’ve brought you another loaf of bread and some cheese. I managed to get half a dozen oranges as well, and some bananas. There are few decent apples about at the moment, though.’

‘It’s very kind of you, miss, but there’s no need to go to the trouble. How much do I owe you?’

‘Nothing, Minnie. They are my gift to you.’

The girl was about twenty, maybe twenty-one, with well-tended raven hair under a plain bonnet. She was slim with an elegance that breeding brought, with classic facial features but not pretty. Her expression seemed perpetually serious but, when she did smile, her eyes softened as they lit up and her lips formed an appealing crescent that revealed two ever so slightly crossed front teeth. Her clothes were plain and unfussy, but their fine quality was undeniable.

‘I don’t know as I need any help o’ that sort,’ Minnie answered. ‘Not with fittles at any rate. But it’s kind o’ you all the same. Would yer like a cup o’ tea or summat? I got the fire a-goin’ today, look, so I can boil a kettle. If you hang on a minute, I’ll run to the pump and fill it.’

‘If it’s no trouble, Minnie,’ the girl said, glad of the chance to be detained, for it would prolong the time she could usefully spend with her. ‘Aren’t you going to put a coat on? It’s quite cold outside.’

‘Oh, I’m hardy, miss.’

The young woman sat quietly, taking in the awful ambience and squalor of the little house, while Minnie fetched the water. Soon she returned and hung the filled kettle on a gale hook, its base resting on the hot coals.

‘It’ll soon boil. Would you like a bit o’ cheese on toast, miss? That’s what I was a-doing for me dinner.’

‘Oh, please carry on, Minnie. Don’t let me interrupt you having your meal.’

‘Right … if you got no objection, miss …’ Minnie pierced the half-toasted piece of bread with the fork again and, leaning forward on her chair, resumed holding it in front of the fire. ‘You still reckon I’m a lost soul then, eh?’

‘I don’t believe you are lost yet, Minnie. I don’t believe it’s too late to save you from the precipice you’re swaying over …’ Minnie uttered a little laugh of mockery. ‘You would soon find forgiveness in Christ—’

‘Am yer a Methody, miss?’

‘No, I’m not a Methodist, Minnie … Don’t you ever consider the joy and contentment marriage might bring, Minnie? The love and devotion of one man?’

‘That’s a joke, miss,’ Minnie retorted disparagingly. ‘I can see no man ever giving me love and devotion. Leastwise, not the sort you’m on about. Nor me them either, to tell you the truth.’

‘I think you could be pleasantly surprised. Holy matrimony was ordained not just for the procreation of children, but as a remedy against sin, to avoid fornication, so that those who are not blessed with the gift of continence might keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.’

Minnie turned the piece of bread on the fork to toast the other side. ‘I don’t know about all that, miss. Men am ten-a-penny and I fancy having me share of ’em afore I’m done. I like men, and men like me. Why shouldn’t I enjoy ’em, and make a shilling or two at the same time? Me only power over ’em is when I got ’em danglin’ on a string, wanting me. Once a man gets me in wedlock, then that string’ll be round my neck, but good and proper. Bearin’ kids, cookin’, bakin’, washin’, workin’ – mekin’ nails up some backyard till all hours, an’ all, I shouldn’t wonder. I mek me living by lyin’ on me back, miss. It’s easy work, it comes natural to me and I enjoy it. I don’t see as how marryin’ some chap’s gunna improve my lot.’

It was a long speech for Minnie and the toast was done. She cut a few slices off the lump of cheese that was on the table and placed them methodically on the toast. Then she opened the oven door at the side of the grate and popped the toast inside to melt the cheese.

‘But Minnie, don’t you feel any damnation for your sin?’

Minnie looked candidly at the young woman. ‘Only from you, miss.’

The young woman returned the look with caring, sympathetic eyes. ‘Why don’t you let me help you find repentance in God’s love?’ she beseeched. ‘Would you not prefer the love of God to the arms of Satan? Let me help you find salvation … and faith. I beg you to reach out for Christ, and feel His love for you returned a hundredfold. Rejoice in His absolute redemption of your sins. Follow the guidance of the Good Shepherd, Minnie.’

The girl had a soft persuasive lilt in her voice, but Minnie shook her head with a serious look on her face. ‘No, miss. It ain’t for me, this church lark—’ Minnie gave the fire a poke and the kettle sighed as the coals beneath it were disturbed. ‘I don’t see as why you should want to bother wi’ me, miss.’

‘You don’t have to call me “miss”. Let us be friends, Minnie. Please call me Virginia.’

‘That your name? Virginia?’

Virginia smiled, her doe eyes exuding a look of gentleness and unending patience. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to call it me if it wasn’t.’

‘You know what it means, don’t ya? Virgin?’ Minnie asked provocatively.

‘Yes.’ She smiled again, a little embarrassed at Minnie’s directness and what she implied. ‘I possibly know more about the name than you, but I understand the point you are trying to make. Virginia was originally a Roman family name, but it has a greater significance now as a reference to our great Queen Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen.’

‘So, am yer a virgin … Virginia? I mean – you know as I ain’t.’

The rich aroma of cheese cooking permeated the room and Virginia breathed it in. It was a warm, homely smell, incongruous in this spartan den of iniquity in which she now sat.

‘I am unmarried, Minnie. But rest assured that I shall remain a virgin until I attain the blessed state of holy matrimony.’

‘You don’t know what you’m missin’, Virginia … You don’t, honest.’

‘No, and I can’t begin to imagine, either, Minnie. I’d rather not even try.’

The kettle was starting to bubble and steam profusely, so Minnie lifted it from the fire, holding the handle with a rag. ‘I’ll mek that tea now.’ She reached into the cupboard at the side of the grate and took out a packet of tea.

‘I shall not be deterred by your resistance to repentance, you know, Minnie,’ Virginia said. ‘God’s bounteous love is too potent a force to resist for long. So I shall not be despairing of you.’

Minnie smiled appreciatively. ‘I know you’m a good person, miss. You’m well meaning an’ all that. You’m welcome here any time. We can always enjoy a mug o’ tea together, eh? But I ain’t gunna promise that I’ll ever tek up this church lark … Nor give up me whorin’.’