Josephine Cox - A Woman’s Fortune

‘Let’s see if there’s a fabric stall or a haberdasher’s,’ suggested Evie. ‘We can report back to Grandma if anything looks good.’

‘Aye, your gran has high standards,’ said Jeanie, ‘though we may have to make do to start with and work our way up to best quality as we earn a bit of money.’

‘It sounds like you think Grandma’s idea really will work out.’ Evie’s smile lit up her face. ‘I’m so glad, Mum. The washing was hard, but it was nice when us three were all working together. It’ll be like that again.’

‘From oldest to youngest, we all stick together,’ Jeanie agreed.

‘It’s going to be brilliant. I can’t wait to get started.’

They soon spotted a stall heaped with bolts of cloth, but the prices were high compared to those the Carters were used to up North.

‘No mill shops here either,’ said Jeanie. ‘Well, I suppose we couldn’t expect it to be as cheap as it is straight from the factory. That lace is nice, though.’

‘We’ll remember to tell Grandma. Come on, let’s go and see if we can find Mr Bailey.’

They had already made a plan. The public library was a grand-looking building on one side of the square and they went in and found the reference library where a sign instructed ‘SILENCE’. Josie Lambert had mentioned that Frederick Bailey drove a smart car so it was highly likely he was the kind of man who also had a telephone in his house. Jeanie and Evie quickly found the local telephone directory and in less than two minutes were coming out of the library with the addresses written down of two people: ‘F. Bailey’ and ‘F. W. Bailey’.

‘We’ve no way of knowing so we’ll just have to try one, and then the other if we have to,’ said Jeanie.

‘Maybe look out for a policeman – they always know where places are – but we’ll ask Mr Clackett in the meantime.’

They went back over to the market and had to wait while Mr Clackett did a brisk trade in salad before he was free to give them his attention.

‘Woodfall Road – don’t know that, I’m afraid, Mrs Carter. Eh, Stanley,’ he called across to a man selling sausages. ‘Woodfall Road – ring any bells?’

Stanley scratched his head. ‘Off the main road out towards Church Sandleton,’ he said eventually.

‘What about Midsummer Row?’ asked Jeanie.

‘Oh, that’s just behind here,’ said Mr Clackett. ‘Next to that shoe shop there’s a side road that goes down into a little square.’

‘Thank you,’ beamed Jeanie, and she and Evie set off for the nearer place.

‘Oh, I suddenly feel quite nervous,’ said Jeanie as they walked through into the pretty square with trees in a tiny central garden and tall thin town houses overlooking it all round.

‘Perhaps he’ll be really nice,’ suggested Evie, though she, too, was anxious and her stomach was churning.

‘Do I look all right?’ asked Jeanie. ‘I don’t want to appear down at heel. I want Mr Bailey to think we’re respectable folk who can be trusted.’

Evie stopped walking and pulled her mother round to face her. She tipped her straw hat a fraction further forward and brushed a tiny speck of dust off the lapel of her floral print jacket. It was old but Sue had made it from quality cotton spun and woven in Bolton and, with its eye-catching colours and sharp tailoring, it had stood the test of time and was a fine advertisement for Sue’s dressmaking skills.

‘Mum, you look lovely,’ Evie told her mother truthfully. ‘Now let’s see which one’s Marlowe House.’

They walked round the square, reading the names on smart plaques beside the front doors, and soon came to the right one. Evie opened the iron gate and Jeanie led her through and up the steps to the front door.

She took a deep breath and had just put her hand out to ring the bell when the door was flung open and a furious-looking woman, wearing an overall and with her hair tied up with a scarf, erupted out of the house.

‘You can keep your flipping job, you old bastard!’ she yelled back through the open door. ‘Don’t you threaten me with the police. Years I’ve slaved for you, and poor thanks I’ve had for it. I’ve seen pigs keep themselves cleaner. You can stew in your own muck. I deserve better and I only took what should have been mine. I’ve had enough!’

She picked up an ornament from a side table beside the door and hurled it back down the hall. Evie and Jeanie heard the tinkle of shattering china and unconsciously they clutched each other as the harridan, oblivious, stomped past them, down the steps and through the gate, leaving it open in her wake.

Evie’s heart was pounding as she turned to see her mother was white with shock.

‘Oh, Mum, whatever can have happened? I think we ought to go. I don’t like it here at all.’

‘Me neither, Evie. Come on …’

As they began to retrace their steps a calm and educated voice called behind them, ‘Please don’t mind Mrs Summers. She can be a bit ill-tempered, though, truth be told, she was a very good cleaner. Pity she wasn’t a more honest one.’

Jeanie quickly tried to gather herself as she turned back to see who had spoken.

He was a tall, very lean and good-looking man in his fifties, his greying dark hair in need of a cut. He was wearing a moth-eaten old cricket pullover, and a kerchief – such as a pirate might wear in an adventure story, thought Evie – knotted round the frayed neck of his collarless shirt. Jeanie looked him up and down in astonishment and thought without a doubt that he was the most untidy – and the handsomest – man she’d ever seen.

‘Mr Bailey?’ she asked, suddenly feeling strangely breathless.

‘I am Frederick Bailey,’ the tall man replied with astonishing dignity considering what his ex-cleaner had just called him in front of strangers.

‘Er … I’m Ginette Carter, and this is my daughter, Evelyn.’

‘How do you do,’ said Mr Bailey. ‘How can I help you?’

Oh dear, he doesn’t seem to have heard of us. Living at Pendle’s is all an awful mistake. Or maybe this is the wrong person and we should be at the other Bailey’s house? As this thought flashed through Evie’s mind she saw her mother’s puzzled face reflecting the very same thing.

‘I … I’m wondering if you might be our new landlord,’ Jeanie persevered. ‘Pendle’s? In Church Sandleton?’

‘Yes, I suppose I must be, if that’s where you’re living,’ Mr Bailey replied vaguely. ‘Come in, please …’

He stood back to let Jeanie and Evie pass through the smart front door and into the hall where shards of pink and white porcelain lay strewn across the floor.

‘Pity about the shepherdess,’ he said. ‘I’d got a buyer lined up for her, too. Still, there we are …’

Evie caught Jeanie’s eye behind the man’s back and shrugged nervously. This man wasn’t like anyone she had ever met, and though the coarse, shouting woman had gone she still didn’t feel at all comfortable here.

Jeanie, too, felt out of place in this strange house, with this odd man, but as she looked around the elegant little hallway Mr Bailey turned to her and smiled, and it was a smile she understood.

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