The Castlefield Collector Read online

  ‘I can’t imagine what you were thinking of to drive your car into the midst of those streets.’ Nathan was well aware that the mill-operatives called him a ‘careful’ man, the sort who would cut an apple in half to make it go further. And what was so wrong in that? As a non-conformist he didn’t care to be ‘showy’. He was reasonably content with his lot, believed in living well but lording his good fortune over his workers could prove a risky operation as they might then start pressing for higher wages. Most mornings he would walk to work rather than take his car, using his Rolls Royce only on a Sunday. Sadly, Evie never showed the same restraint.

  Utterly spoiled and selfish, she was quite incapable of grasping the difficulties faced by anyone, let alone those less fortunate than herself. ‘A man was killed, Evie.’

  Tears clouded her lovely pale blue eyes. ‘You can’t blame me for that. You are being deliberately cruel, Pops.’

  ‘Of course I’m not being cruel, you silly girl. It was a dreadful accident. Most unfortunate.’ Irritated that he seemed to have been put in the wrong, Nathan crisply folded his paper and, pushing back his chair, abruptly left the table. He’d had enough of female tantrums and was anxious to get back to the mill and blessed reality. Even so, he wagged the folded paper at her, determined to make his point. ‘This isn’t some sort of game, Evie. We’ve lost money through that damned strike, and now one of my operatives, so don’t try to wash your hands of responsibility altogether. All I’m trying to do is point out that occasionally you should consider the possible consequences of your actions.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake, Johnny and Tommy Warbeck were driving an omnibus, so why shouldn’t I do something too? What’s the difference? And don’t give me that “because you’re a woman” nonsense.’

  Nathan snorted his derision since a less likely candidate for a campaigner for women’s rights would be hard to find. Evie had never shown the least interest in being a suffragette, of learning about the mill and her inheritance, nor in taking up any other sort of employment or useful occupation whatsoever. Perhaps he would’ve liked and admired her more if she had. But then, perhaps it was his fault for pandering to her whims too much. He gave her shingled hair an awkward pat, recalling with nostalgic affection how he might once have tugged at soft curls, but that was when he’d still nursed hopes of a son to follow this delightful little girl. As a child, he’d found it quite impossible to be cross with her for long, however naughty. Now, a distance had grown between them, one he couldn’t quite bridge. ‘A woman alone in those streets is asking for trouble. You put yourself in danger, and others too.’

  ‘Rubbish, and there have been no consequences. I won’t accept that I am responsible for some petty quarrel between two silly girls on the mill floor, nor that terrible accident.’

  Nathan growled his displeasure. ‘For once in your idle life, Evie, think of others before yourself. A man is dead because two girls were fighting over you. He leaves a wife and family. What is it you want me to do, ignore that tragic fact? Pretend it never happened? I can’t do that. I take my responsibilities to my workforce seriously, and give them the respect they deserve if only because it is politic to do so.’ He turned to leave but at the door, swivelled on his heel for one parting comment.

  ‘And I certainly cannot condone a big wedding, not now, not when half the district is in mourning for Calvin Tomkins. He might’ve had his faults, but he didn’t deserve to end his life like this, and we must pay all due respect, otherwise, I’ll have his family and half the workforce back out on strike. It’s only good manners, common humanity, for you to scale things down to more manageable proportions.’

  ‘What?’ Evie gave a screech of temper. ‘So that’s what this is all about! Nothing whatsoever to do with common humanity and absolutely everything to do with you being mean; as parsimonious and penny-pinching as ever. If you simply want to make my life a complete misery, I won’t allow it, do you hear? Freddie’s people are expecting a monumental thrash with copious amounts of top-notch champagne, and I intend to give them one. Is that clear?’ she screamed.

  ‘Not if I have to pay for it,’ Nathan calmly remarked, in his darkest, most damning tones. ‘There’s nothing to suggest that this strike is over yet. The miners are still out, and the rest could easily down tools and come out again in sympathy, for longer next time. How can I explain things to you, Evie, in words that you might possibly understand? Apart from the sensitivities surrounding this tragedy, I really cannot afford, right now, to pay for a big wedding. Scale it down or postpone it for a year.’

  He walked from the breakfast room without waiting to witness her response to his decision, though by the hysterical screaming which followed him, he really didn’t need to.

  * * *

  ‘I hope you realise what you’ve done, Dolly. You’ve ruined, no – destroyed us, and our poor dad is dead.’ Aggie flung the accusation at her sister then let out a great wail of distress, wanting to be fussed over by any or all of the various members of the Tomkins family who had gathered to see her father properly dispatched. No one rushed to do so.

  ‘Put a sock in it, Aggie, you’re not helping with your caterwauling,’ grumbled Abel, the eldest of the brothers and most like his father in temperament. ‘We all know our Dolly’s to blame, point is, where do we go from here? I can’t help. I’ve enough on my plate.’

  Eli, in his quiet, authoritative tones, told his brother to leave Dolly alone. Always her most stalwart supporter, he’d been the one to stand up to their father, the only one Calvin hadn’t ever clobbered. Willy said nothing, as was his way, yet still Aggie glared at him, just as if he had.

  ‘Aye, give it a rest,’ agreed Josh. ‘There’s nothing worse than a wailing woman.’

  Aggie was outraged. ‘Why do you all defend her, and not me? The nasty little cow nearly got me sacked.’

  ‘I bet your tongue’s glad when you’re asleep and can have a rest for a change. Put a clip on it for pity’s sake.’ Josh preferred his women silent and obedient, which his wife had learned to her cost, and he’d certainly no intention of making a big thing of this accident, tragic as it was, or he’d end up having to support his mother as well as a wife and four kids. Nor would he grieve for a father who’d leathered him as often as Calvin had. He’d got his just desserts in Josh’s opinion, and the sooner this day was over and done with, the better. He’d neither time nor patience for weeping and wailing. ‘I’ve lost a day’s pay for this funeral, so shurrup, will you. Just be glad you’re weren’t the one who was sacked, after all.’

  ‘Nor the one who’s dead,’ added Maisie in her quiet voice. ‘So you can all guard your tongues. I’ll have no family feuds today, ta very much.’

  Her husband’s body had lain like a wax effigy in the front parlour for the required number of days, pennies covering his eyes, blinds drawn, mirrors draped, even the big mantel clock stopped, and today he’d finally been put to rest in the cemetery. She’d been worried how she was going to manage, there being no compensation forthcoming from the mill. Fortunately, the Rechabites had helped out with the cost of the funeral, although if they’d realised Calvin Tomkins didn’t go in for temperance quite as his wife did, they might have thought twice. Well, he’ll sup no more now, that’s for sure, Maisie thought. It had given her quite a lift, in that sad moment of farewell, to consider the benefits of Calvin’s demise. No more roaring rows, no more drunken rages, no more beatings.

  But the family squabbles were clearly due to continue unabated.

  There seemed to be kids everywhere, like a party, not a wake, and Maisie had already been given instructions on her next child-minding dates, plus a bag of washing dumped in the corner for her to ‘just rinse through later’. Funeral or no funeral, nothing changed.

  Now they were partaking of the customary ham, washed down by copious amounts of tea while the deceased’s life was scrutinised in fine detail and the repercussions of his shocking death considered. Having quietly reminded them that quarrelling amongst themsel
ves wasn’t appropriate in the circumstances they’d fallen into a grudging silence. There was nothing more to be said, no will to worry about since Calvin hadn’t possessed a penny to his name, and not one of her sons asked how she would go about settling his debts.

  Maisie was thankful when the family finally left, hurrying back to their own lives, duty done, all save for the two girls and Willy. She put the washing to soak then brewed yet more tea, the age-old remedy for disaster. Aggie returned to the lament which had occupied her all day, still complaining that it was all Dolly’s fault.

  ‘Who else can you blame? Our Dolly is a blackleg. As much of a strike breaker as that daft cluck what ventured down these streets in her fancy jalopy. If she hadn’t got involved with that stupid girl in the first place, this would never have happened. We’d all still be in work, and Dad still alive. So whose fault is it, if not hers?’

  Her daughter’s distress was genuine, the tears still rolling down Aggie’s cheeks so Maisie’s reply was gentle, even as she made a very fair point. ‘Our Dolly didn’t know it’d end up like this when she went to that girl’s aid, now did she?’

  Maisie couldn’t help thinking that if her hot blooded husband hadn’t shoved his oar in, Aggie might well have been able to wheedle the overlooker into letting Dolly off, and Calvin might indeed still be alive. Being the youngest and the last in line for everything, Dolly could be fierce when it came to sticking up for herself but Aggie could wind a chap round her little finger with a smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, if she put her mind to it, as easily as yarn on a cop. Tragically, she’d never got the chance, all due to a bit of fancy footwork on Harold’s behalf. Matters had taken a nasty turn for the worse and Calvin had come off the loser.

  The police had been called, naturally, but after due investigation and numerous interviews of witnesses to the scene, the authorities had decided there were no charges to answer. Everyone agreed that Calvin never actually touched Harold Entwistle, though there was an altercation between them, following the scrap involving the two girls. The mill management did not feel inclined to have Dolly continue in their employ and she was banished to join the ranks of the unemployed. Betty Deurden and Aggie, were both reinstated.

  Even so, Aggie was determined to lay the blame on someone for the loss of her beloved father. ‘She shouldn’t have gone to her aid. She should have thought of the consequences. Now my wages, and our Willy’s, are all you’ll have coming in now. We’re done for, and all thanks to that silly cow. If you hadn’t spoiled her so much, she might have shown more sense. You’re useless, you, both as a mother and at managing a house.’ Aggie’s voice was again rising to a shriek and not even gentle Willy was able to calm her. ‘You were lousy to me dad, a rotten wife. He told me so a dozen times.’

  ‘If I was as useless as you say, happen the way he treated me had something to do with that.’ Thin as a drink of water, Maisie Tomkins had learned to be circumspect in her dealings with her drunkard husband. Least said, soonest mended had always been her motto. That way you lived longer and didn’t carry so many bruises. It hadn’t taken much to offend Calvin, or bring about a violent response and Maisie had spent her entire life walking on egg-shells, always taking the easy option, and the line of least resistance. The memory of when he’d once broken two of her ribs was still branded on her soul. Had that been because she was a bad wife? Happen so on that occasion, since she’d been guilty of the worst sin in the book. She’d taken her punishment without complaint or shedding a single tear, nor cried since. Where was the point? She’d been caught, like a rabbit in a trap, with nowhere else to run.

  Now she was free at last, and had no intention of being bullied by her own daughter. ‘If our Dolly did something she shouldn’t, it were only because she were afeared for that lass’s life. What would you expect her to do, walk on by as if she’d seen nothing and let them chaps beat the poor girl to a pulp?’

  ‘Why not? It generally pays to keep your nose out of other folk’s business,’ Aggie said, tossing her curls in that flighty way she had.

  Willy gave a philosophical smile. ‘Nay, that’s our Dolly all over, allus one for getting steamed up.’

  ‘I didn’t get steamed up. It was Betty Deurden who felled me with her spindle. I’ll get another job, I will, I swear it. We’ll not starve.’

  ‘Course we won’t starve,’ her loyal mother agreed. ‘So leave her be, Aggie, why don’t you?’ Maisie couldn’t seem able to stop herself from over-protecting this youngest child of hers; the one who had always landed her in the most trouble throughout a long trial of a marriage. Largely, Calvin had ignored her, almost as if she were invisible or didn’t exist, favouring Aggie and calling her ‘his precious girl’, as if he didn’t have another. Maisie had understood his attitude but as Dolly had grown, she’d been relieved to note that she became her own person, despite her father’s blatant neglect. Perhaps because Eli and her lovely Manny, at least, had petted and spoiled her while they’d still lived at home, which had provided her with the love and attention she craved and given a much needed boost to her confidence. And Willy adored her, of course.

  Not that they didn’t all have their faults, with a great deal of rivalry, and backbiting always going on between them. Much as Maisie adored her sons, they were, to a man, utterly wrapped up in themselves and their own concerns; each wanting to be the best; each needing to outdo the other, just like their father before them. Abel and Josh, and even the quiet Eli couldn’t be described as saints or the most charitable of souls, despite their biblical names. They generally put their own interests first, even, in some cases, before that of their long-suffering wives.

  Dolly was quite the opposite, entirely different from the rest of the Tomkins brood. Small in stature yet she was ever ready to stand up for the underdog. Where she got that from Maisie couldn’t imagine, certainly not from her. Even as a child she’d collected a veritable tribe of lame ducks, the kind of friends no one else would look twice at.

  ‘I understand that you’re grieving, Aggie, but I’ll not have you blaming your sister, or taking your nasty temper out on her. Our Dolly is special. Happen one day she might escape this hole and make something of her life. She certainly has it in her to do so, which is more than you have, selfish madam that you are. But then she’s worth more than the lot of you put together.’

  Maisie saw at once that she’d gone too far. She could tell by the way Aggie bridled and puffed herself out, looking so much like her father in that moment it brought a prickle of ice to her spine.

  Ignoring her mother and Willy completely, Aggie stuck her face so close to Dolly’s, the spittle from her foaming mouth flicked across her sister’s cheeks, making her flinch. ‘Mam might think the sun shines out of you, girl, but I know the truth, because Dad told me. I asked him, straight out, why you looked so different from the rest of us, and if you were one of his by-blows. He thought that was funny but was far enough gone in the drink to admit that you weren’t his at all. Wrong side of the blanket just the same, so it’s no skin off my nose if you can’t get work and are forced to go out on t’streets. Earn your living same way as our precious mother earned hers, why don’t you, and spare us all the bother of putting up with you. It’ll be one less mouth to feed, at least.’

  Dolly was gazing at her sister dumbfounded, her mind a whirl of confusion. Something wasn’t quite right. Her sister’s venomous tirade was now being drowned out by the sound of her own heart like a heavy drumbeat in her ears, and she couldn’t quite take anything in. Glancing across at Maisie she saw that her mother had gone death pale, her hand across her mouth. Dolly cleared her throat and tried out her voice. It was a bit croaky but she got the words out somehow.

  ‘I didn’t quite catch what you said. What was that about blankets and earning a living like me mam? What did you mean by that, Aggie? What was it Dad said, exactly?’

  A finger wagged furiously in her face. ‘Don’t you even call him by that name. Haven’t I just explained, he wasn’t your Dad, he
was mine!’

  Somewhere in the dim recesses of her consciousness, in the part of her skull that wasn’t crying in agony, Dolly thought she heard Maisie give a low groan that turned into a sob. Yet she calmly felt the need to ask. ‘Then who is my dad?’

  Aggie laughed, a sound to chill the stoutest heart. ‘That’s a good question. Could be the milkman for all I know. Ask your bloody mother.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘I need to know, Mam. It’s no good you sitting there stony-faced telling me it’s nothing to do with me. It’s everything to do with me. He wasn’t my dad, was he? That’s why he never liked me. Why would our Aggie say such a thing otherwise?’

  ‘Because she’s hurting, and wants you to hurt too.’

  ‘Are you saying she lied?’

  The pause this time was longer and more painful. Having delivered this damning piece of information, Aggie had been packed off to bed, much against her will, Maisie insisting she needed to talk to Dolly alone. Willy had also made himself scarce, as was his wont in times of crisis. Fresh tea had been brewed and here they both were, facing some uncomfortable truths.

  ‘No, it’s true enough, and yes, it does concern you. I was just hoping that you’d never find out, that’s all. Now that you have, I suppose you might as well hear the whole sorry tale.’ Maisie could feel a panic welling up inside her. What on earth could she say? Not the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth that was for sure. She decided to start at the beginning, to give herself time to think.

  ‘When Calvin and me first got married I were already carrying our Abel. The babbies seemed to come thick and fast after that, one a year for four years. Then I lost a couple. Weren’t meself for a time, grieving for me lost babbies, and run ragged with them that I had, so there was a bigger gap before I had our Willy. Seven years later our Aggie come as a bit of a shock like. I was thirty-four by then and reckoned I were finished like. And Calvin were showing less interest, if you take my meaning. After Aggie was born I were thankful to keep it that way, cause I didn’t want no more childer. Except that he got obsessed with the booze and the horses instead, which didn’t help one bit, and I had to keep borrowing more and more money to keep us afloat.