Heir to Greyladies Read online

  Winifred presented her with a battered alarm clock. ‘Use this. We don’t want them docking your wages for being late.’

  It felt strange getting ready in the dark house, trying not to make a noise, but at least Norris wasn’t around to bother her at that hour.

  On the first day, she had to wait till the other employees had started work at the bakery before the foreman had time to tell her what to do. She felt a fool, sitting on a bench near the entrance with everyone staring at her.

  He stared too, studying her clothes and grimacing. ‘You’ve nearly grown out of that blouse, girl. Women who work here dress decently.’ He looked at her breasts, but without the leer that Norris had, then turned to the woman next to him. ‘Find out what else she’s got to wear, Vera. If she hasn’t any better things than these, we’ll have to look for someone else for the job.’

  ‘Her mother will get her whatever’s necessary, Rodney. I know Winifred. She wouldn’t have understood what was needed, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, make certain she does understand now. I only gave the girl a job as a favour to you. We run an immaculate place here and my girls have to keep themselves nice. We bake for the gentry as well as for others, and they don’t want to see scruffy folk touching the food they eat.’

  He turned away without speaking to Harriet again.

  Vera smiled at her. ‘Come on. I’ll find you an overall. Tell Winifred to get you some new clothes before next week. Sturdy ones, because they’ll need a lot of washing to get the flour dust out.’

  It didn’t take Harriet more than a minute’s thought to say, ‘She won’t do it unless you tell her. She never listens to me.’

  ‘No wonder, if you’re so lazy. Well, you’ll not be lazy here, or you’ll be out on your ear.’

  Harriet gaped at her. What had Winifred been saying about her now?

  All day she worked hard, scrubbing floors, tables, walls, helping keep everything as clean as possible, doing things even before they asked her because it was obvious what was needed.

  At the end of the day, Vera said in her abrupt way, ‘I’ll walk home with you and tell Winifred.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Vera frowned at her as if puzzled. ‘You worked well today.’

  ‘I’m not lazy.’ She met the older woman’s eyes without flinching. ‘And I never have been.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Winifred grumbled but took Harriet along to the market on Saturday afternoon and bought her some plain, practical clothes. She didn’t give the girl any choice about colour or style, just bought the cheapest and most hard-wearing garments she could find.

  From then on, the only difficult thing about working at the bakery was going home on the afternoons Winifred went out to see her friends.

  Three weeks after her father died, Norris caught her on her own again. He was hiding in the scullery and didn’t come out till she’d checked that he wasn’t in the kitchen and closed the front door.

  Her heart began to hammer and she backed away from him.

  ‘Your father’s not here to protect you now. I’m the man of the house and what I say goes.’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his body. She could feel his man’s part pressing against her and froze in terror. Mrs Leigh had explained only too clearly what that meant.

  Her stillness must have fooled him into thinking she would do as he said, and with a laugh he let go of her to fumble with his trousers.

  She kicked him in the shin as hard as she could, knocking him off balance, then fled down the hall and out into the street. Further along she bumped into old Mr Prentice and gasped, glancing over her shoulder at Norris, who was now standing at the front door, scowling.

  The old man stared from her to her stepbrother, eyes narrowed. ‘Giving you trouble, is he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Them Hardings are a randy lot, always have been. You can shelter in my house till his mother gets back.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And if you ever need shelter when I’m out, use my shed. I’ll show you where I keep the key and there’s a bolt to lock it from the inside as well. You’re young enough to climb over the wall into the backyard.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Prentice. I’d better go in the back way now. I don’t want Norris to see me going into your house or he’ll know where I hide.’

  ‘You do that. You’re a nice lass and don’t deserve such disrespect.’ He scowled along the street at Norris, who was still watching them. ‘We don’t usually have that sort living in our street. His mother’s a floozy, and looks it too, however fine she dresses. It’s in the eyes. You can’t mistake it. And he’s a lout, a real rough head.’

  She walked round to the alley at the back and got over Mr Prentice’s back wall easily. The kind old man was waiting for her at the kitchen door and at once led the way into his house. ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘Yes, please. But I’ll have to watch out for her coming home. An’ I don’t want her to see me coming out of your house, either. She doesn’t like me even talking to the neighbours.’

  ‘You can slip out through the back again. We’ll take our tea into the front room, so you’ll see her coming past. I often sit there and watch what’s going on. I don’t miss much.’

  The following week, however, Winifred was late coming back from her friend’s and Harriet didn’t dare delay going home any longer, because she had strict orders to get the tea ready.

  Her heart sank when she found Norris sitting in the kitchen. She paused near the door, not sure whether to run away.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ he said. ‘Hurry up with that food. Mum will soon be back.’

  She started to get things out, filling the washing-up bowl with water to peel the potatoes. The way he sat there, watching, smiling as if he knew something she didn’t, made her nervous. She tried not to go too close to him, but she had to get things out of the cupboard.

  When she’d passed him safely a couple of times, she relaxed a bit.

  That was when he put out his foot and tripped her.

  As she lay sprawled on the floor, he got down to join her. She rolled away, screaming for help, suddenly more afraid of him than she’d ever been before.

  He was too strong for her and dragged her away from the broken crockery onto the hearth rug. She kicked and screamed but he just laughed.

  ‘It’s no use calling out for help. That’s one thing about posh neighbours. They don’t come in without an invitation. So you might as well give in and do as I tell you.’

  ‘Your mother will be back soon.’ She tried to fend him off. ‘She won’t want you to do this.’

  ‘She’s going to be late today, won’t be back for over an hour yet. And even if you tell her, she won’t believe I forced you, so it’ll be no good complaining to her. Anyway, it’ll be too late by then. I’ll have had you and no one else will want you after that.’

  He was panting now, trying to get her clothes off, hurting her, laughing at her efforts to escape.

  ‘We’ll be doing this quite often from now on,’ he said, pulling down her knickers. ‘You’ll soon get used to it.’

  Nothing she did stopped him. Once she managed to bite his hand, but he slapped her so hard she felt dizzy for a minute or two.

  By that time he had her knickers right off and was groping at her private parts, his rough fingers hurting her tender skin.

  She didn’t stop screaming or struggling, but he laughed and started to undo his trousers.

  Then they both jumped in shock as dirty water and potatoes cascaded down on them.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Norris Harding?’ Winifred screeched.

  ‘She was asking for it,’ Norris said at once. ‘Rubbing herself against me. I’m only human.’

  Harriet scrabbled away from him, burning with shame, unable to stop sobbing.

  ‘You must think I’m a fool.’ Winifred raised her late husband’s walking stick. It whistled through the air and caught Norris across the face. Again and again hi
s mother beat him about the head and shoulders. He made no attempt to do anything but protect his face with his hands.

  ‘You’ll not do that again in my house,’ Winifred said. ‘Whether the girl is willing or not.’

  By this time he was cowering in a corner, begging her to stop, blood oozing from the weals on his neck and hands from where the stick had slashed him.

  The beating ended as abruptly as it had begun. Winifred stood staring at her son, panting with the effort, the walking stick quivering in her raised hand.

  He made a movement as if to get away and the stick was levelled with his chin. He froze, staring at her.

  ‘Go to your bedroom and stay there till I tell you to come out.’ She stepped back.

  He got to his feet and ran from the room, speeded on his way with a final slash to his backside that had him yelling in pain.

  Then Winifred turned to Harriet, who had scrambled into her knickers and was standing in the scullery doorway, tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin.

  The silence went on for so long that Harriet wondered if she should run out of the house while she could and take refuge with Mr Prentice. Winifred was studying her as if she’d never seen her before.

  What she did say was quite unexpected. ‘You’re going to be quite pretty when you’ve grown into your body, young lady, and my Norris is like his father. I hadn’t taken that into account. They want a woman more often than most, them Hardings do. Randy devils, all of them. Your father was a bit like that, too.’

  Harriet dared say, ‘I didn’t encourage Norris, Winifred. I’d never, ever do that.’

  ‘I believe you, because I saw with my own eyes how hard you were fighting. Go for the eyes next time someone attacks you. Try to scratch them out.’

  Silence again. More assessing looks, then Winifred gestured to the scullery. ‘Go an’ wash your face, then come and sit down. I need to have a think.’

  When Harriet came back, Winifred said, ‘Brew us a pot of tea.’

  She did as she was asked, then waited, filled with dread, her stomach lurching every time Winifred moved.

  ‘Well, sit down. An’ get yourself a cup.’

  But the teapot wobbled when Harriet tried to pick it up.

  ‘Give me that.’ Winifred poured them both some tea, then sipped hers thoughtfully. ‘I’m not giving up your wages,’ she said at last.

  ‘But I can’t—’

  ‘Quiet. I’ll do the talking.’

  She drank, frowning in thought, then poured herself another cup of tea, tipping some into the saucer to cool it quickly, then leant back, studying her stepdaughter as if she’d never seen her before. ‘You talk more posh than I do.’

  Harriet didn’t know what to make of that remark.

  ‘An’ you know a lot of useless stuff too, like the gentry. Book learning and such. James said your mother’s family were a bit fancy, didn’t want her to marry him.’

  The silence was broken only by the ticking of the clock till Winifred set down her empty cup. ‘Ah. That was good. Nothing like tea for helping you think. Go an’ pack your clothes. You can take your mother’s suitcase off the top of my wardrobe. Pack every single thing you’ve got into it.’

  ‘My books too?’

  Winifred looked at her in exasperation. ‘You and your damned books. All right. Take them. They’re not worth much. Take everything you want. You’ll not be coming back. I’m going to be renting your room out.’

  ‘But where am I—?’

  ‘Just do as you’re told.’ She went to the foot of the stairs and yelled, ‘Norris! Down here.’

  He came running down, scowling at Harriet, who moved along the hall and waited for him to pass before she went upstairs.

  She got the suitcase down and began to pack, terrified of what would happen to her now. Where was she going? Surely Winifred wasn’t going to put her in the workhouse?

  She hid her mother’s locket and brooch among her spare knickers and vests. Winifred didn’t know she had the jewellery because her father had told her to keep the pieces out of sight.

  After some hesitation, she went downstairs and knocked on the closed kitchen door.

  Winifred came to answer her knock. ‘I’ve not finished with Norris. Stay upstairs till I call you.’

  ‘I just wanted to know if it was all right to take my mother’s family Bible.’ She gestured towards the front room.

  ‘Books! That’s all you think of. Yes. Take the damned thing. It’s so old the leather’s crumbling, so it can’t be worth much. Take any of the books you fancy. You’ll want something to remember your parents by.’

  Harriet managed to cram two of her favourite books into the suitcase as well as the Bible, but that was all it would hold and she had to sit on it to make it close. She didn’t want to leave the others. Perhaps she could tie them up with string and make a handle of it to carry them. But she couldn’t get the ball of string till Winifred had finished in the kitchen.

  She brushed her hair and tied it back as neatly as she could, then sat on the bed waiting to be called down, feeling exhausted. She could do nothing about the bruises and scratches on her face. She couldn’t do much about anything, it seemed. Other people were ordering her life now.

  But one day she’d manage to do things for herself. Whatever it took, she would find a way. Her teacher had said she was clever. Now she had to prove it.

  Winifred looked at her bruised and battered son. ‘Sorry I hurt you so much. I got a bit carried away. I was angry with you.’

  ‘She encouraged me.’

  ‘I wasn’t born yesterday. She damned well didn’t. Look, Norris, if you can’t control yourself, you’ll get nowhere in this life.’

  She let that sink in, then continued, ‘I’ve got some ideas for making money. A lot of money. And I want you in it with me. But it’ll be no good if you can’t control yourself. Not just this, but your temper. We want to come out of it respectable. Before I’m through, I want a big house, servants, all sorts of things. And I’m going to get them, too. Are you in with me or are you going to carry on being lazy and getting into fights?’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘A lot of money.’

  ‘Harriet’s … a temptation.’

  ‘I’m sending her away. You’ll get your women quietly after this and treat them well. I don’t want you spoiling my plans by having a reputation for roughing them up.’

  He leant back. ‘You never talked about this before.’

  ‘I had James. He’d not have listened to my ideas. Now, I’ve a mind to do what I want.’

  Norris nodded slowly. ‘All right. You’re on.’

  ‘Good lad.’

  She went to the foot of the stairs and yelled, ‘Harriet! Come down here and bring your suitcase.’

  When Harriet brought the suitcase down, she said, ‘Just a minute.’ She ran back upstairs and brought down the books. ‘I need to tie these together with string.’

  Winifred sighed. ‘All right. Though what you want with them, I don’t know. Books don’t bring you money.’

  Chapter Two

  Doris Miller limped slowly across to the china cabinet and took out her best teapot, stroking it lovingly. Royal Doulton, it was. The tea set had been a leaving present from her last mistress. She only used it when she needed cheering up or felt lonely, and for some reason it usually did the trick.

  She took a tray into the front parlour and poured herself a cup of best lapsang souchong. Not many people liked the smoky tea, which she drank without milk or sugar, but she loved it. It was such a beautiful dark colour, almost red, glowing against the blue and white of the willow pattern.

  As she was pouring a second cup, the door knocker sounded. She smiled as she went to answer it. Not often someone came to see her in the evening. You’d swear that tea could work magic.

  Her niece was on the doorstep. Winifred wasn’t Doris’s favourite relative, but she was family, and family had to stick together, so she held the door wider. ‘Come in
.’

  It wasn’t till Winifred moved forward that Doris saw the girl standing behind her, a tall, thin lass with lovely hair, red but of a soft russet colour, definitely not ginger. The girl had obviously been in trouble, because she had bruises on her face and her eyes were swollen with crying. ‘Who are you, then?’ Doris asked her gently.

  Winifred turned round. ‘Oh, sorry. You haven’t met, have you? This is Harriet, James’s daughter. Harriet, this is Mrs Miller, my aunt.’

  The old woman nodded, then led the way inside. ‘I was sorry to hear about your husband. I’d have come to the funeral but I had a bad cold.’

  ‘At least he went quickly, but he didn’t make old bones, did he?’ Winifred said. ‘Not many are lucky to live as long as you, Auntie.’

  Which bit of flattery meant her niece wanted something. Hmm. Doris said nothing, watching in amusement as Winifred stopped to stare into the front room, studying its contents as if assessing them. If Winifred thought she was going to inherit all this, she could think again.

  ‘It isn’t all pleasure being seventy-two years old, I promise you.’

  ‘You have enough money to live on comfortably, Auntie. You’ve done well.’

  ‘Not many folk are as careful with their money as I’ve been. And not all employers pay you a pension like the Daltons do.’ Doris turned back to the girl who was still standing in the hallway. ‘Come into the kitchen, Harriet. You can leave your suitcase in the hall.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Miller.’

  ‘It’s “Miss”, really. They called me “Mrs” when I was a housekeeper, and I’ve got used to it now. I was never stupid enough to marry or I’d probably be in the workhouse now.’

  She led the way into the back room. She didn’t allow many people into her front room, didn’t want them knocking over her little tables or breaking her ornaments.

  When they were all seated, Doris waited, but unusually for her Winifred didn’t speak until prompted, just sat chewing her lip and frowning.

  ‘What can I do for you, then? You’d not come here at this hour of the night if you didn’t need my help.’