Free Down Weaver's Lane by Anna Jacobs Page B

feet, his face on a level with hers, since he was lower down the stairs.
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Has that Mrs Oswald got a spare bedroom?’
    Emmy nodded.
    ‘Ask her if you can live in. Tell her you’ll work for less money.’
    ‘There’ll be no one to look after my mother if I do that. She needs me. She can’t bear to be alone.’
    He was silent for a long time, then said in tones of mild surprise, ‘Another one as is loyal.’ After that he walked off without another word.
    She heard him fumble with the front door then go clumping off towards town. With a weary sigh she went back into the bedroom to find her mother sprawled across the bed, snoring. Emmy could not bear the thought of sleeping in a bed still warm from him, so went and lay down on the rag rug on the floor in front of the embers of the fire, as she did sometimes.
     
    The next day George came tramping back down the lane just after noon, a scratch decorating his face where Madge’s nails had raked it. He seemed in the best of humours and was whistling tunefully. Emmy saw him through the front bedroom window, for she and Mrs Tibby were putting clean sheets on the bed, sheets which smelled of fresh air and soap, unlike those on her own bed. She sighed and stopped work for a moment to watch him.
    ‘What’s wrong, dear?’
    Emmy beckoned her across and pointed. ‘That’s George Duckworth. My mother works for him. He doesn’t usually come to see her so early in the day, so I can’t help wondering what he wants. I don’t like the way he looks at me sometimes.’
    An hour later there was a knock on the back door and when Emmy went to open it she found her mother there, looking as tidy as she ever got nowadays.
    ‘Can I speak to Mrs Oswald, lovie? I won’t come in. Just ask her if I can have a minute or two of her time.’
    Tibby hurried to the door, afraid Emmy’s mother might be here to take her away.
    The child lingered nearby, eavesdropping in case this unexpected visit meant trouble.
    ‘I’ve been thinking, Mrs Oswald,’ Madge began. ‘You’re being very kind, taking Emmy as your maid, given the circumstances. But people won’t like it, her coming back to me every night. I wonder - if she took less wages, could she maybe live in?’
    Silence, then Tibby said briskly, ‘That sounds like a good idea to me, but I’d have to hire her by the year if we did that, which I’m quite willing to do. It’s the usual arrangement, you know.’
    Madge nodded. ‘Yes, I do know. I had a maid of my own once.’ She saw the surprise and disbelief on the other woman’s face and spread her arms wide, looking down at herself in sudden disgust. ‘You don’t think I was always like this, do you? You don’t think I wanted to turn to this sort of life?’
    ‘Can you not - find some other way to earn your bread?’ Tibby watched Emmy’s mother stare for a moment into the distance as if she saw something dreadful there, then shake herself and focus on her present task again.
    ‘No, Mrs Oswald, I can’t. It’s too late for me now. But I want better for my daughter. She’ll learn a lot working for you and I thank you for it.’
    ‘Then we shall make an agreement. I’ll take Emmy for a year. She may come and see you occasionally because I wouldn’t keep a mother and daughter apart, whatever people say.’
    ‘If it’s all right with you, I’d rather come and see her. I’ll come to the back door, be discreet. You see, I’m moving into the alehouse and I don’t want her coming to that place.’
    Inside the house Emmy gasped and clapped one hand over her mouth. She had no doubt this was all being done at George’s prompting. Why? And the answer was obvious, of course. He hadn’t changed his mind about her, but he wanted her kept somewhere safe till she grew up and in the meantime would make do with her mother. She moved forward, not even trying to pretend she hadn’t overheard. ‘Do you have to go and live with him, Mum?’
    Madge laughed, a