One Quiet Woman

Book 0: Ellindale Series

by Anna Jacobs

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

From the beloved and bestselling Anna Jacobs' comes a new Lancashire-based saga.

1930, Lancashire:
Leah Turner's father has been killed in an accident at the laundry, and since her mother died years ago it falls to her to become sole provider for her little sister. But women's wages are half those of men and pawning the few belongings she has left will only keep their vicious rent collector at bay for a few weeks, so even if she finds a job, they'll lose their home.

Out of the blue Charlie Willcox, the local pawnbroker, offers her a deal. His brother Jonah, an invalid since being gassed in the Great War, needs a wife. Charlie thinks Leah would be perfect for the job.
The idea of a marriage of convenience doesn't please Leah, but she finds Jonah agreeable enough and moving with him to the pretty hamlet of Ellindale may be the only chance of a better life for her sister.

But other people have plans for the remote Pennine valley, and the two sisters find themselves facing danger in their new life with Jonah. Can the three of them ever look to a brighter future?

(P)2017 Hodder & Stoughton Limited

Release date: May 4, 2017

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 368

Sample

Leah Turner saw her little sister off to school, then tipped her purse upside down on the kitchen table. A penny and a halfpenny coin fell out. After staring at them in despair she had a weep into her apron. But not for long. If she let herself continue crying, her eyes would betray her.

‘Oh, Dad,’ she murmured, ‘why did you have to be the one standing in the wrong place?’ He’d been killed, her lovely kind father, by a flying piece of metal as one of the machines at the laundry was being repaired and tested.

Since then she’d tried in vain to find a job, eking out every penny and walking for miles, not only around the large village of Birch End where they lived, but going right down into the nearby town of Rivenshaw, at the lower end of the valley. But jobs were scarce in these hard times, had been for years, and anyway, they paid women less than men. She and her little sister Rosa would have to move to a room in a lodging house soon, because she’d not be able to afford the rent.

Mr Harris, the owner of the laundry, had paid for a cheap funeral and given her a month’s pay to make up for her father being killed. He’d said she and her sister could live rent-free in this house for six months, but Sam Griggs, the rent man, had come round the following week and told her she’d misunderstood and it was only two months. After that, she must pay the normal rent or get out.

No one dared protest or argue with him.

She went to stand at the front door for a breath of fresh air. The other women in the street had been out already, each scrubbing her doorstep and the flagstones on the nearby pavement, then giving them a creamy colour by scrubbing them with holystones. She couldn’t afford a holystone now or the fuel to heat water, but she could still scrub the doorstep, couldn’t she? She prided herself on being clean.

Bringing out the mat, she knelt on it and began scrubbing. Her fingers were cold because it was a chilly day, even if the sun was shining. Her heart felt even colder.

What were she and Rosa going to do next week when the two months ran out? The government might have abolished workhouses in April – she’d read about it in the newspaper at the library – but they still put people who were destitute in the same building, whatever they called it.

She heard a car approaching and sat up, easing her back and staring round. Like everyone else, Leah knew the car by sight. It belonged to the wife of the owner of the laundry. Mrs Harris owned a lot of houses in Birch End, the poorer sort of house, and kept them in bad repair.

To her surprise, the vehicle stopped in front of her house.

Mrs Harris opened the rear door and got out to stare at what Leah was doing. She looked at the bucket and dipped one fingertip in the cold, dirty water. ‘Don’t you know any better than that? You need soap and hot water to do a proper job, young woman! I want my houses keeping cleaner than this.’

Leah could feel herself stiffening in outrage at this criticism. She dropped the scrubbing brush into the bucket and stood up, trying to speak calmly, ‘I know the best way to scrub a doorstep but—’

‘Then why are you doing it so sloppily? Go and boil the kettle, you stupid girl.’ She turned and walked back to the car.

It was the final straw. Leah took the three steps that brought her next to the open car door and yelled, ‘My father was killed six weeks ago at your husband’s laundry, so we don’t have the money for soap now, or any coal to heat water. We have one slice of bread left and I’m saving it for my little sister’s tea tonight. I’ll be going hungry.’

She would have to go to the pawnshop, something she’d been dreading. She’d never pawned anything in her life before.

Silence. A passer-by had stopped to listen and stare. Mrs Harris scowled at him and he hurried on. She looked at the person in the car, then fumbled in her big black leather handbag and held something out. ‘Here. And don’t waste it.’

Automatically Leah took what was offered: a shilling.

Then she saw that it wasn’t Sam Griggs sitting behind the driving wheel, but Mr Harris, who normally drove his own car. He nodded to her and it seemed, it really did, that his quick half-smile was genuinely sympathetic.

But he wouldn’t intervene. Everyone knew he was hen-pecked, because the laundry had been in trouble when he inherited it from his father and his wife’s money had saved it. But he’d paid a terrible price because she was a vicious woman. No one liked her, especially her tenants.

Leah’s father had said the laundry was doing a lot better now, but Mr Harris would be stuck with the same nagging wife for the rest of his life, poor man. Leah had never had to accept charity before, but it meant food for Rosa, so she forced herself to say politely, ‘Thank you, Mrs Harris.’

The lady pulled the car door shut, saying loudly, ‘Drive on, Adam. What are you waiting for?’

As she watched the car go down the street and turn the corner, Leah wondered briefly why Mr Harris was driving his wife round the village on a working day instead of Sam Griggs.

Oh, who cared about them? There were far more important things to worry about.

The bitter taste of charity lingered in Leah’s mouth all morning, but when she came back from the shops, she had a loaf of day-old bread which cost half the usual price, and a pound of carrots. There were even a few pennies left in her purse.

But she’d still have to go to the pawnshop tomorrow and find out what prices they gave before deciding which pieces of furniture to offer them first.

She had one little treasure she was saving: her mother’s wedding ring. Surely she’d be able to find some way of earning a living before that had to go?

The following morning, as Leah was about to set off for the pawnshop, there was a knock on the door. She opened it to see Jim Banks, the deputy manager from the laundry.

‘Have you got a minute, lass?’

‘Yes. Come in.’ She held the door open, aware of the shadowy figure of Mrs Foster from across the street standing behind her net curtains watching, looking for something to gossip about.

‘Come into the kitchen, Mr Banks. We’re not using the front room at the moment.’

He sat down and she told him the bald truth. ‘I can’t offer you a cup of tea, because we’ve none in the house.’

‘That bad, eh?’

‘What did you expect, with Dad gone? There are no jobs going or I’d be out working. And any jobs that come up are given to men.’

‘It was a bad do, that accident. We still miss Stan. Your father was a good worker.’

She blinked to clear the tears that would well in her eyes when anyone mentioned her father. ‘How can I help you, Mr Banks?’

‘I think it’s me who can help you, lass. I’ve come to offer you a job at the laundry.’

‘I thought there was nothing going.’

‘Janet Green’s husband’s lost his job. They’re moving to Barnsley to live with her aunt. So you’ll be doing her job, helping with the bedding and towels, putting dirty clothes in the washing machines, feeding them through the wringers, then rinsing them and using the wringers again before hanging them in the drying room. You know the sort of thing.’

She nodded. She knew what it was like in the laundry from taking her father’s lunch in when he forgot it, and from a short stint of trying to work there and not coping with the steamy atmosphere. Once the clothes were dry, the women had to feed sheet after sheet through the big ironing rollers. Tedious work, but she’d welcome anything. There was just one problem now, a big one.

‘Will I be able to stay in this house, Mr Banks, do you think? Could Mr Harris speak to his wife about it? I’ve nowhere else to live, only I can’t afford the present rent on a woman’s wages.’

‘I’m sorry. You’ll have to find a room for yourself and your sister. Mr Harris tried, but his wife insists on her houses making a profit.’

Leah didn’t allow herself to protest or even sigh. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. ‘I’ll take the job. Thank you very much for offering it.’

‘Thank Mr Harris. It was his idea, though I agreed with it.’ He stood up and patted her on the shoulder. ‘You’ll start at six o’clock sharp on Monday morning. I’ve got to get back now.’ Then he stopped and added, ‘I’m afraid the other women won’t like you getting the job and they might not be very helpful at first. They’ve daughters looking for work too, you see.’

‘I’ll manage. Please thank Mr Harris for me.’

‘You can thank him yourself on Monday. He doesn’t just sit in the office all day. He knows everyone at the laundry by name.’

When she went back into the kitchen she found a sixpence on the table. ‘Thank you, Mr Banks!’ she said out loud, even though he could no longer hear her.

She would wait till tomorrow to visit the pawnshop, she decided. Or even the day after. She had enough money for food now, thank goodness. She might buy some potatoes and a bundle of sticks for fuel to boil them.

In the old days she’d have gone out gathering bits of wood, but these days the countryside at the lower end of the valley had been scoured clean of fallen branches and even twigs by others in need. There was no wood to be found on the moors, just peace and freedom. She loved walking there.

She looked at the clock. She might as well sweep the pavement in front of her house. That cost nothing.

Just after she started work, a man came striding along the street, tall, thin and well dressed in a showy way: Charlie Willcox who owned the pawnshop. He stopped beside her and took off his hat. ‘Leah Turner.’

It was a statement not a question, so he clearly knew who she was. How strange. She’d been thinking of going to visit his shop. ‘Yes.’ She leaned on her sweeping brush and waited to see what he wanted.

He studied her thoroughly, his eyes going from top to toe, then back again. They were sharp eyes that saw every darned patch in her clothes, she was sure.

She drew herself up to her full height, which was nearly the same as his. ‘I’m busy. What do you want, Mr Willcox? If you’re trying to sell me something, I’ve no money.’

He chuckled. ‘It just shows you don’t use the pawnshops if you think I go out selling stuff to people. I own one here in Birch End and another in Rivenshaw, you know.’

‘Yes. So I’ve heard.’ She’d been going to visit his shop because people said he gave you fairer prices than Ma Baker did. There were two pawnshops in Birch End now, two! That was a sign of the hard times that had hit Lancashire since the Great War.

‘No need to look at me like that. People need pawnshops in times like these, Miss Turner, and some need them at other times too.’

She shrugged.

‘Can we go somewhere private to talk?’

That surprised her. ‘Why?’

‘You need a job. I might be able to help you.’

It wouldn’t hurt to find out what he was offering. Working in a pawnshop wouldn’t be any worse than working in the laundry, especially if it paid more. She set the bucket to one side and gestured to the front door. ‘Come inside, then.’

He gestured to her to go first. He was polite, at least. She had to give him that. She led the way down the corridor, hearing his steps behind her.

It was strange. Some men made you feel uncomfortable walking behind you, but he didn’t. He might have looked her up and down, but it hadn’t been in that rude way Sam Griggs had with women.

‘Please sit down, Mr Willcox.’

He took the chair she indicated at the kitchen table and she said it again, ‘I can’t offer you a cup of tea, I’m afraid, because I’ve none in the house.’

For the second time that day a man said, ‘That bad, eh?’ in a sympathetic tone of voice, which surprised her. Pawnshop owners weren’t usually known for being sympathetic towards people in trouble. That was how they made their money, after all.

He was studying the room now. ‘You keep the place clean.’

‘Of course I do. Now tell me what you want. I’m sure you’re a busy man.’

For the first time he looked less confident. ‘Um, you’ll have heard that I have a brother who got gassed in the war?’

‘I don’t know much about you and your family because I don’t waste my time gossiping. All I know is that you’ve got an invalid brother.’

‘His name’s Jonah. He used to be a big, strong fellow, but he doesn’t breathe very well these days so he isn’t able to work full-time, especially not physical work. He helps out in the shop, though, does the accounts for me. He’s really good with figures.’

He paused, seemed to be fumbling for words. ‘Jonah’s been living with me, but I’m about to get married and my fiancée doesn’t want him sharing the house. So I’m looking for a wife for Jonah as well. I’m told you’re a good housewife and I can see for myself how clean you keep this place, even now.’

She looked at him in puzzlement. Had she misheard him? Surely he didn’t mean that he wanted her to marry his brother?

He ran his fingertip round his collar as if it had suddenly become too tight. ‘I um, think you might make a good wife for Jonah.’

He had meant it! ‘Why me?’

‘Women gossip in the shop and when your father was killed, I heard about you being left to bring up your little sister. I’m sorry about your father, by the way. Everyone seemed to think well of you, and it made me think. So I checked out a few things. You did really well at school.’

‘Why does it matter how well I did at school?’

Mr Willcox grinned at her. ‘Our Jonah always has his head in a book. He’d not be happy married to someone who didn’t read and take an interest in the world.’

‘Oh.’

‘So … I thought we might make a bargain about you marrying Jonah.’

‘If he can’t hold down a job, how can he support a wife?’

‘He has independent means. He’s not rich or anything, but he inherited a few bits and pieces from his mother’s side that bring in enough money for him to live on. He’s my stepbrother actually, same father, different mothers, you see.’

She wasn’t going to accept such a ridiculous offer, but she might as well get to the bottom of things. Perhaps his brother might like a housekeeper instead? ‘That means he’s above my station in life.’

‘He won’t care about that, and I don’t, either. It’s whether you can take care of him, look after the house and so on.’ Again, he looked round the room and nodded. ‘I want him to be happy, though, and he couldn’t be with a stupid wife. His happiness matters a lot to me.’

‘Well, I don’t want to marry anyone for his money, thank you very much, Mr Willcox. Anyway, a marriage of convenience is a ridiculous idea in this day and age. We’re not living in the Middle Ages now, you know. It’s 1930, not 1330!’

He leaned back and grinned at her. ‘They said you’d read half the books in the library. Sounds as if they were right. You use a lot of break-teeth words like Jonah does. And it’s not such a ridiculous idea if the bargain suits us all. It’d surely be better than working in the laundry? I asked a woman who works for me about you as well. Vi said the steaminess in the laundry made you wheeze when you were younger and you had to stop working there. It didn’t suit her, either, which is how she wound up working for me.’

He stared at her thoughtfully. ‘She said you did so well at school your mother wanted you to become a teacher but she died suddenly, so you had to take over the house and raise your little sister. Am I right?’

‘Yes, but I can’t see what—’ Leah glanced down, noticed her reddened hands and clasped them in her lap to hide their ugliness. ‘But I still don’t see why you think it’d suit me to marry your brother. Or him to marry me. Does he even know about this?’

‘He knows I think it’s a good idea and he’s prepared to meet you. So I’m only offering you a chance, not a certain thing, till he’s approved of you. Look, he gave up a lot in the service of his country, our Jonah did. He’s a great talker as well as a great reader. I’m sure you two would get on. I’m told you go to the library every week. Is that right?’

‘Yes, because it’s free. But reading books doesn’t bring in money. I don’t think—’

‘Don’t say no till you’ve heard me out. Let me tell you more about him. Jonah is three years older than me. His mother died bearing him, which is why my father called him Jonah. But she came from a better family than my mother and she left him a small cottage out in Ellindale, as well as a few other things …’

‘Which suggests that your brother needs someone of his own kind to marry.’

‘Bear with me. The tenant of the cottage moved out last quarter day and I told Jonah not to put anyone else in because I was going to get married and he’d need somewhere to live.’

‘Why can’t this Jonah of yours find his own wife?’

‘He’s a quiet sort of fellow, a bit shy with the ladies.’

‘Well, don’t bother to pursue this. I’m not selling myself into slavery for life. I’d rather work at the laundry.’

‘No, you wouldn’t. No one would.’

She stared defiantly back at his confident smile, but was beginning to realise he was right. She had been dreading working in the laundry, absolutely dreading it.

She supposed his offer was a compliment, sort of. But how could she possibly marry a complete stranger? This man’s brother might be cruel or – or anything. And then she’d be stuck with him. Like that nice Mr Harris was stuck with his horrible wife.

‘Look, why don’t you come and meet Jonah, Miss Turner, see how you get on? It’ll be much easier to decide when you know what he’s like. It’s not just you, you know. If he doesn’t want to marry you, I won’t push him into anything. And if you’re against marrying him after you’ve met, well, I don’t want to give Jonah a wife who resents him. But it wouldn’t hurt to give it some consideration. I’m usually quite good at planning and making sure things work out all right.’

She opened her mouth to refuse, then looked down and caught sight of her worn, nearly empty purse. Should she do that? Meet this Jonah Willcox? ‘I suppose that’s a sensible thing to do. Meet him, I mean. But I’m making no promises.’

‘Good. We’ll go and see him now.’

‘Now?’ It came out as a squeak. ‘With me looking my worst?’

He chuckled. ‘I’ll give you ten minutes to change while I go and call a taxi. We live just outside Birch End, so it’ll be better for us to drive out there. I can’t drive, so I don’t have a car of my own.’

‘I—you—oh, very well!’

She saw him out, then ran up the stairs. Once in her bedroom she moved rapidly round, changing into her Sunday best and tidying her hair. ‘You’re an idiot,’ she muttered to her reflection in the dressing-table mirror.

She was quite pleased with her appearance, though. These clothes weren’t shabby, at least. She wasn’t a beauty, not with her straight brown hair and blue-grey eyes, but she wasn’t ugly, either.

No one had ever come courting her, not in these hard times, because she had her father and sister to care for. She’d got used to the idea of remaining a spinster. Didn’t like it, would have preferred to marry and have children, but there you were. Life hadn’t given her the chance.

Now … it occurred to her she might have a chance if she accepted this offer. She swallowed hard, but already it was beginning to sound a possibility, a better solution than the laundry.

When she thought about it, she realised she’d been wrong to say people didn’t marry for convenience these days. Men who were widowed usually married within a few weeks, because they needed someone to look after their house and children. Women who were widowed married to find another breadwinner.

For her, it would all depend on what this Jonah Willcox was like. She wasn’t marrying an unkind man, whatever anyone said, because there was Rosa to think about as well as herself.

Jonah Willcox woke from his nap with a start that set his heart pounding. It took him a few moments to realise it was only a fever dream, the usual nightmare where he was back in the trenches, slipping desperately in the mud, struggling to keep up with the man in front of him.

Thank heaven! He was at home in the sitting room of his brother’s house, and the damned war had happened over a decade ago. He patted his chest a few times and his heart gradually stopped fluttering. He was missing his stroll today. He might not be able to walk fast but he enjoyed the fresh air and always felt it did him good to get out and breathe deeply. He especially liked this time of year, with the leaves starting to fall and the air crisp and invigorating.

Today he’d planned to walk up the lower slopes of the moors, but unfortunately his brother Charlie had phoned to say he was hoping to bring a woman home to meet him about ‘you know what’, so he had to stay at home.

Charlie might not have come out with any details of why he was pushing Jonah to marry, but he had overheard things. Marion had told Charlie more than once that she didn’t intend to start their married life caring for an invalid, thank you very much, especially when it wasn’t even necessary. His brother could perfectly well find himself a wife to do that.

Actually, Jonah didn’t want to live with Marion either. She was far too sharp and bossy. He couldn’t understand what Charlie saw in her. A slim body and pretty doll-like face might look good, but a selfish nature and scornful attitude towards those below her in the world spoiled a woman’s suitability for marriage as far as he was concerned.

Jonah had long fancied living out at Ellindale, but Charlie had got it into his head that if his older brother went to live there, he would need a wife. So as usual Charlie had rushed into arranging all this like a bull at a gate.

The trouble was, when his brother rushed into things so enthusiastically, they had a tendency to go well, even when you didn’t expect them to. Charlie was a clever chap, no doubt about that, clever in business especially. He had a gift for making money, even in such economically depressed times.

Jonah sighed. There was something else that worried him about Charlie’s idea, something he hadn’t been able to say out loud. He wasn’t at all sure he could manage the husbandly duties in bed these days.

He’d discuss the whole thing again with Charlie after he’d met this woman. It’d be stupid to refuse to meet her, but a housekeeper would do just as well for his purposes. And not even a live-in one, by preference. He was thirty-four and had got used to his own company because Charlie was out all day and often in the evening too.

The coming changes were a good thing, because they’d made him start to take more control of his life. It was so easy to leave everything to his more forceful brother.

He might even buy himself a car, just a little runabout. Charlie kept telling him to use taxis, but you had to wait around for them. Yes, a car would be nice. He’d seen photos of a rather smart little saloon, an Austin Swallow. Not too expensive, just under £200. He could afford that easily. Even Charlie didn’t realise how much Jonah had in the savings bank. He hadn’t only been left the cottage at Ellindale but a trust fund and some other bits and pieces too. The fund didn’t bring in a lot of money, but there was more than enough to live on and he had been careful with it, so had added to the savings and even made one or two small investments that had paid off. He might not be as pushy as Charlie but he had a similar flair for making money.

As for driving a car, Charlie didn’t want to learn because he was short-sighted and hated the idea of wearing spectacles. But there was nothing wrong with Jonah’s eyes and he had driven vehicles of all shapes and sizes during the war. He was sure the modern ones would be even easier with their electric starter motors and easier gear changing. He didn’t think he’d have the strength to hand crank an engine to start it, not now.

He began pacing up and down the hall, into the kitchen and out again, suddenly feeling nervous and wishing Charlie hadn’t got him into this. There was no point in him marrying because he doubted he’d make old bones. He had his books, was thinking of taking up oil painting, because he was quite good at drawing, and if he had a car he could go out for drives on fine days.

That would be enough. It had to be. What couldn’t be cured must be endured. There was never a truer saying when it came to the results of being gassed.

He heard footsteps coming up the garden path and braced himself to meet the woman prepared to marry a cripple for money. She’d probably be a hard-faced harpy.

He also braced himself to refuse to do what his brother wanted, for once. Some things you had to decide for yourself.

Leah was surprised at how big Charlie’s house was, detached, modern and in the best street in the village. Pawnshops must bring in more money than she’d thought if he could afford this.

‘This way.’ He opened the gate and led the way up the path.

There was a sign on the wall next to the front door saying Redgate Cottage, and indeed the gate and door had both been painted a dark red. But this was no cottage. She’d seen places like this advertised for sale in magazines and newspapers and they always called them ‘residences’.

As Charlie opened the front door, he called, ‘It’s me. I’ve brought someone to meet you, Jonah lad.’ He gestured to her to go into the hall.

She could feel herself blushing even before the man walked slowly out of a room at the rear of the house. Jonah bore a strong resemblance to his brother, though he was better looking in a gentler way.

He stared back at her openly, looking stiff and unwelcoming. Her heart sank. He didn’t seem any happier about this meeting than she was. She didn’t intend to allow herself to be forced on a man who was reluctant. What sort of life would that lead to?

He was taller than her, with a thin, intelligent face, dark hair and that slightly gasping way of breathing she’d heard from other men gassed during the war.

‘We’ll go into the sitting room.’ Charlie led the way, indicating seats and waiting until they’d sat down to introduce his two companions to one another properly.

‘Miss Turner, this is my brother, Jonah. Jonah, this is Leah Turner, whose father was killed in that accident at the laundry a few weeks ago.’

She saw Jonah’s stiff expression change suddenly into compassion. ‘I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult for you.’

‘Thank you. He was a good father.’

Silence fell, heavy and awkward. She couldn’t think what to say so kept her eye on Charlie for clues about what to do next.

He waited a moment or two, looking from one to the other, then laughed and stood up again. ‘You two both know why you’re here and you need to have a chat if you’re to get to know one another. You won’t do that easily with me sitting between you like Piggy in the Middle. I’ll come back in an hour or so to drive you home, Miss Turner.’

‘Charlie, don’t—’ Jonah began.

But Charlie was out of the room before either of them could stop him. The front door slammed and footsteps ran lightly down the path.

Leah felt frozen with embarrassment and it was a while before she even dared look at her companion. He appeared to be as embarrassed as she was, which made her feel a little better.

‘This is a difficult situation,’ he said abruptly. ‘Typical of Charlie, don’t you think?’

‘I’d never met him until today, only seen him in the street, so I don’t know. He just turned up at my house and … and swept me away.’

‘He does that sort of thing. I’d never even heard your name until just now.’

‘Did you know he wanted to find you a wife?’

‘Yes. But he’d only talked about it in vague terms and I wasn’t at all sure I was going to let him. Um, would you like a cup of tea?’

‘I’d love one.’

‘Let’s go into the kitchen, then.’ He stared round the room as if he didn’t really like it. She didn’t either. There was just too much of everything.

‘Charlie’s fiancée has been decorating in here. There’s a little sun room off the kitchen, which I much prefer to sit in.’

At the kitchen door, Leah stopped, staring round avidly. ‘Oh, how lovely and modern!’

She’d studied the photos of kitchens in women’s magazines, because she enjoyed cooking – when she had anything to cook. She read nearly all the magazines in the library and sometimes copied out recipes. Not that she could afford to try most of them, but still, one day she might.

‘It’s the sort of kitchen women dream of, with a gas cooker and matching kitchen units. Oh, and there’s even a refrigerator. Fancy that! I’ve never even seen one, let alone used one.’

He was smili. . .