Free Forever Yours by Rita Bradshaw

might be listening when she said, ‘Your Aunty Ruth had a quiet word with me this afternoon, hinny. There’ll be a job going at the post office when Tilly’s wed and she’s asked Tilly to put in a good word for you with the postmaster. She gets on well with him, always has done, and he thinks a bit of her so there shouldn’t be a problem if she recommends you. What do you think of that then? Working in the post office, lass. Imagine.’
    The steel jaws of the trap finally snapped shut. Knowing she’d cry if she tried to speak, Tilly squeezed her grandma’s arm and attempted a smile.
    Her grandma must have been satisfied with the way she was overcome with wonder at the news. Patting her cheek once more, she rose briskly to her feet and after divesting herself of her coat and old felt hat which was going green with age, Mabel walked over to the range and put the black kettle on to the centre of the glowing fire. ‘We’ll have a nice cup of tea and some of that fruit loaf I made earlier to celebrate,’ she said happily, her smile beatific, although whether they were celebrating the news of the coming nuptials or the prospect of Constance’s job at the post office, her two listeners weren’t sure.
     
    It was only a few days later that the event occurred which changed the direction of Constance’s life for ever. She had been helping Miss Newton clear out a store cupboard in the seniors’ classroom once all the children had gone home, and Miss Newton had put something to her. She had, the teacher said, been thinking for some time that Constance could do very well for herself. She understood the circumstances in which Constance was placed – this was a tactful way of saying she knew there was no spare money at home – but had Constance considered becoming an uncertified teacher? It wasn’t the same as a qualified teacher, of course, but it was something, wasn’t it? And she would receive a salary, that was the thing. Miss Newton would do all she could to help her, she had emphasised, and she was sure Constance was up to the task. She had such a gift with the children and it would be a great pity if this wasn’t put to good use. It would take some time, of course, but it wasn’t essential Constance brought in a wage immediately, was it?
    No, Constance had assured the teacher, her eyes shining. It wasn’t. But what exactly was involved and how would she go about it? How old did she have to be and how long would it take?
    They had talked some more and by the time Constance left the school premises it was dark and snowing hard. Her mind full of the conversation she’d just had with Miss Newton, she didn’t notice the tall dark figure standing a few yards away at the corner of Church Street. Consequently when Vincent spoke she started violently and would have fallen but for his hand shooting out to steady her.
    ‘I – I didn’t s-see you,’ she stammered, taking a step backwards so his hand fell from her arm. She knew who he was, everyone in the village knew Mr McKenzie, the weighman, and every miner’s child grew up thinking of him as the devil incarnate, but she had never spoken to him until three days ago. He had been walking along Front Street when she had left school on Monday evening, and had shocked her by smiling at her and saying hello. She had muttered something in reply and scurried away covered in confusion, conscious of his eyes burning into her back. She had thought it a chance meeting and had put the matter out of her mind before she’d reached home, but then he had been there the next night and this time had struck up a conversation with her and she had found herself walking with him until she’d reached Cross Streets.
    He terrified her. She swallowed, her heart pounding. And it wasn’t just the stories she’d heard about him in the Heaths’ kitchen when Matt had vented his spleen about the ‘keeker’ as the men called him. Exactly what it was that frightened her she didn’t know,