Easterleigh Hall (19 page)

‘It's all down to elbow grease, and you must do it if you want a good mushroom soup,' Mrs Moore insisted.

At last it was the servants' lunchtime. Evie barely tasted hers. Roger asked Mr Harvey if he didn't think it was quite the best beef pudding he had tasted. Mr Harvey said, ‘On this occasion I do have to agree with Roger.' Evie thought Mr Harvey looked as though he had sucked a lemon as he concurred with the valet.

Then luncheon was ready to be taken upstairs, with the soufflé looking encouraging as the footman took the tray. It didn't last the distance, Archie told them when he returned with the empty dishes. Mrs Moore shook her head. ‘Empty plates tell their own story. It might have lost its bounce but not its flavour – just the right hint of cheese, Evie, clever girl.'

The fish was transported heavenwards, and still Evie watched the clock. Apple tart, fruit and cheese followed, then coffee. At last it was two thirty.

Mrs Moore retired to her room. Evie had already prepared the scones and fancies for the afternoon tea. Mr Auberon would not be down today but would be at the colliery with his father. Lady Veronica and Lady Brampton were visiting friends in Gosforn but would return to take tea at four in the drawing room.

Evie said to Millie, ‘I must have some fresh air, I'll be back by quarter to four.'

She rushed from the kitchen, up the steps and out into the yard and there was Roger, lounging against the wall. He straightened. ‘Ah, I hoped you'd come.'

Behind him Simon appeared. He came forward, saying, ‘Roger, I wanted to talk to you about the duties of a valet. You must be pretty good to be entrusted with the care of Mr Auberon. I want to better myself. Can you help me, just for a moment?'

Roger hesitated, irritation clear, but then he smiled at Evie. ‘We'll talk later,' he said.

Over my dead body, she thought and slipped across the yard, smiling her gratitude at Simon. She hurried down the path to the side of the walled vegetable garden rather than through the stable yard to the path alongside the yew hedge, for with Roger on the loose it was as well to disguise her destination. She then cut along through the silver birches and primroses to the bothy, checking all the time that Roger had not slid away from Simon and followed.

Jack was in there, standing by her bike, smoking a Woodbine. She ran to him. ‘I was so afraid,' she murmured. ‘I thought you were hurt.' It was then she saw Miss Manton standing in the lee of the entrance, in shadow. She was also smoking. Evie was speechless. Miss Manton held up the cigarette. ‘A secret vice,' she said. ‘I succumb under pressure and Jack was good enough to oblige.'

Evie checked outside again. No one was coming. There was just the blue sky which she had not noticed before, and the blossom on the cherry trees which intermingled with the silver birches and which she must have run past without noticing. She looked from one to the other. ‘What's going on? I have to be back soon. Please, someone tell me.'

She stepped towards Jack but now her lovely strong brother was crying. She was scared. She went to him, but Miss Manton called, ‘Evie, we need to talk.' She was stubbing out her cigarette beneath her boot.

‘Edward and I need an investment. We have money from the sale of the bakery and we have decided to buy the three houses from Froggett. Well, two actually. We intend to lend you enough to make up the shortfall from your savings so that you can buy the end one, the one with three bedrooms. It will need work, but the one you were thinking of is too small, the middle one is too big.' Miss Manton was talking so quickly that she ran out of breath and stopped.

Evie tried to catch up with her words and when she did she could see why Jack was crying. They had been offered a chance that they couldn't possibly accept. It was worse than no hope at all. Miss Manton had found the breath to speed on again, snatching off her modest felt hat as she did so, waving it at them both. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders. Something had given way in her bun. ‘You gave us back Edward's life. How can we accept that gift unless we give you one in return? How can you be cruel enough to expect us to live with that huge obligation? The loan will be interest-free. Your family call it charity, Evie, but can you see that it is not? It is a transaction. A life for a life.'

Jack shook his head, dragging his sleeve across his face, his voice hoarse from his fever, and aggravated by coal dust. He must have been on the backshift to be here now, and was exhausted. ‘But can't you see, Miss Manton, it wasn't just our gift, it was all the pitmen. They held the Lea End lot so your brother could be saved.'

It was what had been in Evie's mind too. Miss Manton slapped her hat in her hand. ‘You and Timmie risked your lives, they did not, and how selfish you will be if you deprive the others of the use of the other two houses by continuing to refuse our proposal. Do you think the Bramptons will use the houses to help the miners, as we intend?'

Evie's tears had stopped with Jack's and now they both stared at her. She continued, ‘Now listen, Easton needs those houses and it's time we did something. Edward and I realised that we had made a mistake yesterday evening not to inform you fully of our plan. I wanted you here, Evie, because you will lend your weight to the right decision. We propose to use the other two houses as retirement homes for the miners of Auld Maud, or emergency accommodation should they be evicted, or should strikes cause hardship, or somewhere to convalesce is needed. It is our duty as Christians and it makes us happy.'

For a moment no one said a word. On the hills the sheep were grazing, the gorse was brilliant in the sun. Miss Manton was explaining that the property purchase would break the Bramptons' stranglehold, and prevent fear of the workhouse for so many. The decision was Jack and Evie's. ‘If you say yes, then we go ahead. If you say no, then . . . I need a decision. This is undoubtedly blackmail and I make no apology for it. I know you need your sleep, Jack, before you go on at eight this evening but I fear if we leave it any longer we will be too late. Who knows how soon Mr Auberon will arrive at the Froggetts with a tempting offer? Please think of yourselves, the others and Edward, and accept.'

Jack was standing beside Evie now, his hand gripping hers. Evie watched the breeze rattle the blossom. A few petals drifted to the ground where the primroses grew. It was so beautiful, so very beautiful, which she hadn't realised before. She had never felt so happy in her life. They were going to be safe. They were going to be free. They had to do it for the others, as well as themselves. He said, his voice so hoarse and weak she could hardly make out his words, ‘What do you think, pet? Can we say yes?'

She squeezed his hand, feeling the calluses, the ridged scars. ‘If we have the house we can repay the loan, of course we can. You'd feel safe when you have to speak out against the management. The old and sick or evicted can go to the two houses, not the workhouse.' She stopped. ‘But how would that be funded, Miss Manton?'

Miss Manton laughed, moving into the doorway too. ‘Leave that problem to us, Evie. The world doesn't rest on your shoulders alone, you know.'

Evie grinned, and shrugged. It truly didn't, and nothing mattered if only they had a house. Nothing. She could continue with Mrs Moore and in just a few years they could set up a hotel. They'd be out of the pit in maybe . . . Well, maybe in just five years. Yes, she'd aim for 1914. Her heart soared with hope. She hugged her brother and whispered, ‘Yes, if we pay interest. Do you agree?'

‘Just what I was thinking, bonny lass.' She knew that from his face, and his strength as he lifted her up high into the air. ‘Just what I was thinking.'

‘I'm taking this as a yes. You must go back to work, Evie. And we must hurry.' Miss Manton was picking up her cigarette stub and Jack his. ‘We must beat Mr Auberon to the Froggetts.'

Jack lowered Evie to the ground, kissing her cheek, then asking, ‘Where are the Bramptons this afternoon?'

‘Archie said that they were off to Auld Maud. You know Mr Auberon's coming to run the pit?' Jack nodded. ‘Simon told me.'

‘Did you know they're only to use reclaimed props, and the space between is to be greater? I heard it from Mr Auberon himself when he came to the kitchen for tea. He didn't know I was listening, of course.'

Jack's look was intense, then it cleared. ‘He won't know how much space there is between the props and neither will Davies. Da will talk to the deputies and they'll just have to be clever about it. We can't do anything else. I'll tell Jeb, don't worry. And thanks, Evie, but be careful. I don't want anyone to know you're listening to all that's being said.'

Miss Manton shook Jack's arm. ‘Enough of this, we must go. Let's get to the trap. Auberon could visit Mr Froggett on his way back from the pit.'

Evie ran back to the basement. Nothing was any trouble any more. If Roger was there, she'd leap right over him. He wasn't, Simon was. She hurried into the corridor with him on her heels. Quickly she told him and he shook his head. ‘That's wonderful. Just to have the two houses for the others will be such a gift. I worry about my da and mam when they're old. I might have enough to look after them but you just never know, do you?'

He held both her hands and for a moment they paused, then Simon dropped her hands as Millie shot out of the kitchen. ‘Come on Evie, Mrs Moore is trying to grate the suet for small herb dumplings for upstairs and her hands are sore. She wants you, not me.'

Simon smiled. ‘I'll bring those marrows, Evie, don't worry. We've some stored.'

Millie was gone. He lifted her hand and kissed it. She paused, wanting his arms around her. He moved just a fraction closer, his eyes on hers, his arms lifting, but then Mrs Moore called, ‘Now, Evie, right now.'

Simon laughed and she slipped past him into the kitchen, hearing him clatter up the steps. Life was so good, even when grating suet.

Jack took the reins from Miss Manton at her request. She wanted another cigarette. He handed her his Woodbines and she cupped her hand against the wind as she lit one. ‘One for you?'

She leaned across, putting one in his mouth, and pressed her cigarette to his. He sucked, feeling strange. He'd never been with a woman who smoked, he'd never driven a trap, only the cart. He wasn't used to sitting sideways to the way he was going, or sitting opposite his passenger. He wanted to break Sally into a gallop but he made do with a fast trot, while the wind burned down his cigarette at a rate of knots. They had to be in time. Until they had sealed the deal it was too painful to even think about it. Perhaps they should have said yes to Miss Manton yesterday. What if they were too late and the whelp Auberon was there first? If they got it his parents would be ecstatic, and Timmie . . . Well, Timmie would want another beer and Da might just let him have it. If they didn't . . . No. Don't even think that.

‘How much further?' Miss Manton asked.

Jack brought himself back to the present and pointed ahead. ‘Froggett lives in the lee of that hill. It's called the Stunted Tree. You can see why.'

There was a windswept hawthorn on the top. It was a natural hill, not a slag heap that oozed filth and heat, but one with grass and gorse, and sheep dotted here and there right up to the summit. Froggett's farm ran up to the Bramptons' land, and he would not allow anyone to survey his property because he didn't want any of that bloody colliery rubbish on or under his land, he always said in the club.

The three houses were just within his land, a little spur that was an anomaly which ran almost up to the village. It was a salient, which Bastard Brampton had tried to acquire once he'd sunk the colliery. He'd tried again when he took over Easterleigh Hall. It was a thorn in his side. It threatened his total control of the miners and the village.

Miss Manton begged yet another cigarette. ‘Light one for me too, bonny lass,' Jack said as he concentrated on the track, steering Sally away from a pothole. Miss Manton's laugh made him realise what he'd said. ‘Sorry, Miss Manton.'

He took the lit cigarette from her and drew on it. The end was slightly damp from her lips. It would have been all right from Evie but Miss Manton was a stranger, and older what's more. Hell, she must be quite thirty and had been Evie's employer. He snatched a look at her. Her hand was shaking as she held the cigarette. ‘We've got to be in time,' she said.

‘We will or we won't be. Try and relax.'

‘How can you be so calm?' Miss Manton drew deeply on the Woodbine, which was glowing in the wind. At the rate she was going she'd want another in a minute and they had to do him for the week, and by, it still seemed strange that she was smoking at all.

He shrugged. ‘If you worried about things you'd never get through the day in the mine. You have to do your best, keep alert and hope your luck's in.'

‘You could pray,' Miss Manton said, holding on to the handle of the trap as a wheel lurched into and out of the rut. The hawthorn hedges were almost in flower and were no longer neatly trimmed, which meant they were out of Brampton's land and into Froggett's. Jack knew the farmer didn't cut back his hedges until May was out, and neither did he cast a clout. His vests were a national treasure, or not. On either side of the track yet more sheep grazed.

There were a few lambs, jumping straight up into the air. Jack loved to see that. He loved the fresh air, but if you were a pitman you were in the pit by eight in the morning or night and down for the next twelve hours, though the hewers worked shorter shifts. What would the Eight-Hour Act bring? Would overtime be paid, would piece rates go up to compensate for the shorter shifts? So many questions.

He was conscious that Miss Manton was staring at him, waiting for his answer, but his God was his own business and he called it luck, and it didn't owe anything to church. It was something between himself and the other, whatever that other was.