For a Father's Pride (20 page)

‘Tah! Isn’t this sweet: my husband holding the servant’s hand. You are nothing but trouble to me, Daisy.’ Angelina had crept silently into the room.

‘It isn’t what you think, Angelina, and well you know it. I was just thanking Daisy for all her help. You know we owe her a lot.’ William rose to his feet.

‘Well, it doesn’t matter. She goes home on Friday, Jim marries his whore and we get on with our lives. Without her!’ Angelina turned and stormed upstairs to Charles, who was
peeking through the banister, watching the scene.

‘Jim is to marry?’ Daisy was shocked to hear the words.

‘Yes, he’s marrying his Susie. God knows why. He should be content just going to her for her services. But no, not our Jim; he’s trying to make her into a lady.’ William
sighed.

‘He loves her – that’s all that matters – and she has a good heart. They will be happy.’ Daisy felt as if her own heart would break. She’d held onto the idea
of Jim being in love with her, and now it was shattered.

‘He’ll be telling you all about his plans when he takes you on the train. They’ve even been looking at moving into one of the new houses being built at Roundhay.’

‘I’m sure they’ll be happy together. Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going back to my bed. I’m feeling unwell.’ Daisy could not hold back the tears
any longer and wanted to shed them in the privacy of her room.

‘Of course, Daisy. And take no notice of Angelina. She’s hot-headed and doesn’t mean what she says.’ William supported Daisy’s arm as they went downstairs to her
room.

‘She does mean it, William, and that is why I’m leaving, while I still can.’ Daisy sat on the edge of the bed.

William didn’t reply. They both knew how close to death Daisy had been, in Angelina’s hands, but neither dared say it.

‘Now, are you sure you’re strong enough to travel on the train alone?’ Jim passed Daisy her battered carpetbag and watched her struggle with the weight of it
as she opened the carriage door. ‘I’d feel better coming on the train with you, just to make sure there is someone there to meet you.’ He fussed around her, feeling guilty that
she would not have any of his help.

‘I’m fine. Kitty says there is a man meeting me at the station to take me straight to Grouse Hall. Get yourself back to Susie, William and the shop.’ Daisy knew she was being
sharp with Jim, but she felt hurt and betrayed.

‘Daisy, you know I think a lot of you, don’t you? But Susie and I go back a long way. I couldn’t believe she said “yes” when I asked her to marry me –
she’d knocked me back so many times.’ Jim looked pleadingly into her eyes, before taking Daisy’s hand to help her into the carriage.

‘I know, and I hope you’ll both be happy. Watch your money, that’s all I’m going to say, and don’t let Angelina get the better of you.’ Daisy could feel the
tears building in her eyes as the guard shouted, ‘All aboard.’ ‘Take care, Jim, I hope life treats you well.’

‘Take care, Daisy petal. I’ll always remember you. I’ll write.’ He kissed her gently on the cheek and watched as her frail form mounted the train’s steps and pulled
the carriage door to.

Daisy waved and wiped a tear from her cheek as the train started to pull away from the station. She watched the figure of Jim through the smoke of the engine until she could barely make out his
form. She loved that man. It didn’t matter about William, Angelina and the new factory, and the shop to which she had contributed. It was Jim she would miss, but now she wondered what the
future would hold for her? Under the same roof as Clifford, she’d lock her bedroom door for sure, and she hoped with all her heart that he’d changed, now that he was a married man.

She placed her belongings on the luggage rack above her head and sat down into the depths of the carriage seat. She’d not been on a train since her first arrival in Leeds and she was
amazed by the changes. The station had grown, and buildings had sprung up alongside the canal and wharfsides. She sighed as the train built up steam, leaving the expanding city. So much had changed
in such little time: houses had been built, the smoking chimneys of factories littered the skyline, and people were constantly in a hurry. Perhaps it was right that she was leaving this life behind
– it had caused her a lot of worry and stress, and now she was going back to the area she had loved while growing up, and to a slower pace of life.

The train pulled up at Bingley and she smiled at the newly built rows of workers’ homes that ran down to the line. Albert Street, Emily Street, Charlotte Street: all good, solid Victorian
names. Bless the Queen, she was a good woman. The beautiful newly built town of Saltaire came next; Titus Salt was a man to be reckoned with, a man from ordinary roots, but now with a town named
after him. He was a good man, though, looking after all his workers, with houses built for them according to their status in his weaving business. The great cotton mill’s looms and shuttles
could be heard sweeping back and forth as the train drew in at the station, even though the windows and doors of the train were closed. Daisy remembered Jim’s words on her first trip into the
centre of Leeds with him: ‘You want nowt with working in a mill, Daisy.’ And now she knew he had been right; she’d seen too many lasses with fingers – or worse –
missing, from the flying shuttles, and women coughing their lungs up from the cotton fibres embedded in them. It was nowt of a life, and she knew that now.

At Skipton station she was joined by a small, bony woman who looked at her with curiosity when she entered her carriage. Daisy smiled and wished her a good afternoon.

‘Aye, I don’t know about that, lass. It looks like rain to me, and I’ve to walk home yet, when I get off this train. It’s a good four miles from the station to Dent
– why they built it there I’ll never know.’ The straight-talking woman looked at her and smiled.

‘Have you been shopping in Skipton?’ Daisy decided to make conversation. Even though she had noticed a lack of bags, she thought it was polite to show interest and she didn’t
think her knowledge of why Dent station had been built, following the land’s natural contours, would be of interest to her new companion.

‘I’m off back to Dent. I’ve just been to Skipton to see my brother. He’s been poorly this last week or two, had a terrible cough. We thought we were going to lose him at
one time – like it would have given us a bit of trade if he had snuffed it.’ The woman’s face remained straight as she spoke.

‘Trade?’ Daisy asked, puzzled by the hard-natured woman who sat across from her.

‘Aye, we are undertakers in Dent, but we never make much money in summer. It’s winter that kills the old ones off. Last winter we had a funeral nearly every week – my Ernie was
fair rubbing his hands. There’s nowt like a good covering of snow to make the spirits low, and then they just start dropping.’

‘I’m off to Garsdale, to my sister’s.’ Daisy decided to change the subject as the train clattered through the next station. She was watching exactly where she was on the
line, for she wanted to watch out of the window once she reached Ribblehead, just to remind her of her past life there.

‘Are you? Whereabouts does she live? I know some folk in Garsdale.’ The woman peered at her with inquisitive eyes, making Daisy feel as if she had suddenly become prey for an
undertaker’s coffin.

‘I’m off to Grouse Hall. My sister and her husband, Clifford Middleton, live there. It’s just above the turning for Grisedale.’ Daisy watched the woman’s face as
she was weighing up whether she knew the family.

‘Clifford Middleton, now let me think.’ The woman sat back and pondered, and then, as if a light had gone on in her brain, she shouted. ‘Oh! I know him. His wife’s mother
died last year. They used to be bakers who came into Sedbergh on market day, until the old fella went mad. He’s a bit of a bugger, is that Clifford – got a bit of a reputation.’
And then she realized what she had said and noted Daisy’s flushes. ‘I’m sorry, lass, I didn’t mean to upset you, and my mouth runs away with me sometimes. I was sorry to
hear about your mother. I didn’t realize they had another lass.’

‘I’ve been away for a while.’ Daisy decided not to say any more to the gossiping woman. Not only had she tittle-tattled about Daisy’s immediate family, but she had
rekindled her fears about Clifford. Why had she written to Kitty begging to come and live with her? She should have waited until she felt stronger and then found her own way in the world. She had
the skills to look after herself, and there were plenty of grand houses needing cooks in Leeds.

Daisy looked out of the window as the train drew out of Settle station. Now that she knew the lie of the land, she recognized the sweeping hills and the drystone walls and her heart beat faster
as she realized she was nearly home. At the same time, a dread from her past filled her.

Hilda Batty watched as Daisy stood and opened the train’s window. Daisy turned her back on her new companion and breathed in the sharp Dales air as it filled the carriage. Even though the
air was infused with smoke from the train engine, she knew she was back home. The station at Horton in Ribblesdale was immaculate as they pulled into it. The flowerbeds were filled with the
delicate, nodding heads of hundreds of snowdrops, and the name of the station had been spelled out in whitewashed stones. She smiled as she looked up at the peak of Pen-y-ghent. How she’d
missed her fells and dales. She stood watching the limestone walls go rushing past, nearly catching her breath as the train rounded the corner onto the straight length into Ribblehead station. She
felt a tear nearly coming to her eye as she saw the road that she had walked down, half-dead and broken-hearted, a few years ago. It was the station to which she’d run away from Gearstones
Lodge, and where she had courted Bob.

The stationmaster blew his whistle and the train rattled over the road bridge, with the Welcome Inn looking like a doll’s house below. Then the train travelled over the mighty viaduct, the
small moorland road running like a length of string under the huge arches. Daisy looked out over the wild moorland, remembering all the navvies she had served, with their toothless grins as they
tucked into her meals, and the thanks she had received when their stomachs had been filled. Passing the signal box and Blea Moor cottages, her heart ached. So many hopes for a better life had been
planned there, all broken on that fateful night when Bob had died. She said a silent prayer for him, before sitting down across from her fellow traveller.

‘Aye, lass, tha looks proper white, are you all right?’

‘I’m fine, just looking out at the view before we go into the tunnel.’ Daisy wasn’t going to tell her anything about her past.

‘It’s a fair height up, that viaduct. I wouldn’t like to stand on the top of it – I’d be fair dizzy.’ The old woman looked out into the blackness of Blea Moor
tunnel. ‘Just shut the window. The smoke’s coming in, and it’s bad for me lungs.’

Daisy rose and closed the window, breathing in the familiar fumes of coal dust and the smell of the many trains that had passed through the tunnel since it was built. She smiled. Memories were
short, and people forgot; already the navvies buried in Chapel-le-Dale and Cowgill churchyard had been forgotten. She’d not forget them. They had made her what she was – a strong
person. And now she was back.

‘I always think this dale is my favourite. Though I would, as I was born here. But you’ve got to go a long way before you see anything as bonny as this view.’ Her companion
looked out of the carriage window at the green valley of Cowgill, which led to Dent. ‘You either live on the sunny side or the money side, say the locals. Well, we’re here; this is
Dent. Looks like I’ll have to walk home. Ernie isn’t here for me.’ She sighed. ‘And it’s beginning to snow! Well, it’s been nice meeting you. I hope all goes
well for you, and forgive me for being an old gossip.’

‘Thank you.’ Daisy gritted her teeth. She was glad to see the back of the nattering old woman, as she slammed the carriage door behind her. She was thankful that the carriage was
empty again as the train made its way from Dent station through the darkness of Rise Hill tunnel. Her stomach churned with fear and apprehension as it pushed its way through a blizzard-clouded
cutting and out into Garsdale.

She looked down the dale, through the falling snow, remembering which family lived in which house, and then looked up to the winding road that led to Grisedale. The lamps were being lit, and
Daisy remembered the homeliness of the families behind the burning lamps; the nights when she and her sister and parents had dined and shared their lives with the neighbours and friends.

Daisy couldn’t help but think that it was a pity Kitty and Clifford had never been blessed with children. Kitty would have been the perfect mother. She had always had more patience than
Daisy, and had always entertained the babies and toddlers who had visited their home. Now that she was returning, what would she find? Could things ever be the same, and would Clifford still be the
bastard she knew him to be?

The snow whipped around her as she climbed down from the train and made her way down the steep hill, towards a standing horse and cart on which an elderly man sat. He had a sack-cloth covering
his shoulders.

‘I’m Daisy Lambert. Thank you for meeting me. I hope it’s not too much trouble.’ Daisy waited for an answer from the scruffy-looking man, but instead she saw a gobful of
saliva and tobacco being spat out at the side of the cart, and heard a slap of the reins on the horse’s flanks as she climbed into the back of the rough cart without a helping hand.

The horse trotted along the road and out of the station yard, past the row of railway workers’ houses and down the steep hill to the valley below. The pastures on either side of the
winding hill road were being covered quickly with the fast-falling snow, and Daisy shivered and wrapped a filthy horse-blanket around her, from the back of the cart, to keep warm. She was already
feeling weak, the journey having exhausted her, after nearly being at death’s door just a few days ago. The snow and cold crept into her bones as the snowflakes settled on her hair and
eyelashes, cold and wet, clinging until they melted with a frozen drip. She slid up to the back of the cart and wrapped whatever else she could find around herself. She’d forgotten how cold
it was out in the bleak countryside of Garsdale, compared to the sheltered streets of Leeds and Kirkstall.