Travis after she’d made the introductions and the two women seemed to find a lot to talk about.
On the way back Phoebe looked at Toby and smiled. ‘You did all right there.’
‘Thanks to you, telling me what to say and ask for.’
‘Eh, it’s the least I could do. I owe you a lot, lad.’
He smiled back at her. ‘Let’s just say we work well together.’ He noticed a frown slide across her face briefly. ‘What are you worrying about now?’
‘What’ll happen when you marry.’
‘I’m in no hurry to wed and I’ll never turn you out of your home, Phoebe. That I swear.’
So of course she was in tears again. Was there ever such a woman for weeping, and as often from joy as from sorrow, he thought as he watched her mop her eyes.
But it was good to have company in his daily life again. He’d never stopped missing his mother.
And best of all, he loved being his own man, whatever his father’s reasons for giving him the inn.
PART 2
1828
4
O ne day in early January Jack came home from work feeling exhausted. His heart sank as he heard from down the street his sister and mother screaming at one another. It embarrassed him to see the neighbours out on their doorsteps, listening and grinning.
He ran the last few yards and burst into the house to find Meg quivering with rage, clutching her precious pink shawl to her bosom. It was dirty at one end and there were muddy threads of pulled wool trailing from it. He knew she wouldn’t have worn the shawl to work because it was such a treasure to her that she kept it for best, hanging out of harm’s way on a nail he’d hammered in for her ’specially in the girls’ bedroom.
He had to shout to make himself heard. ‘What’s happened?’
Meg held the shawl out for his inspection. ‘She wore my shawl. Look at it! It’s all mucky an’ there are pulled threads.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks as she held the soft wool against her cheek.
He looked at his mother and for a moment saw shame flicker on her face – or hoped he did, because it was dreadful of her to have damaged Meg’s most precious possession.
Then Netta tossed her head, staring at him defiantly. ‘I only borrowed it to go down to the shops. It’s not my fault if I fell, is it?’
‘You damaged it on purpose,’ Meg shouted, ‘I know you did. I hate you, you wicked old hag!’
Netta went puce with fury, picked up the nearest object, which was a wooden bowl, and hurled it at her daughter, catching her on the temple.
The sobs cut off abruptly and Meg tumbled to the ground like a rag doll, lying still and frighteningly silent.
Jack rushed across the room to kneel and cradle his sister in his arms. ‘ What have you done, Mam? ’
‘She should have lent that shawl to me when I asked. I’m her mother and . . . Jack! ’
But he wasn’t listening. He was holding his sister close, watching the blood run down her temple and praying she wasn’t badly hurt.
To his relief, her eyes fluttered open but she looked up at him as if she didn’t know where she was, her expression that of a child puzzled by the unkind world around her. He remembered suddenly what a bonny, mischievous little girl she had been. She wasn’t bonny now, she was gaunt, and her eyes had a bruised look to them, as if the world was dealing harshly with her. Well, it was. It had dealt harshly with all of them since his father’s death. But their mother didn’t make it any easier.
As she realised where she was, Meg’s vague expression vanished to be replaced by one of deep sadness. ‘I can’t stand any more of this. I’m going to ask Ben to take me away. Even if she won’t give permission for us to wed, anything will be better than living with her .’ She put up her hand to her forehead. ‘It hurts, Jack. Everything hurts.’
Determination to help her rose in him. She, at least, should escape the unpleasantness their mother seemed to generate. He helped Meg sit up, then went and poured some clean water from the
On the way back Phoebe looked at Toby and smiled. ‘You did all right there.’
‘Thanks to you, telling me what to say and ask for.’
‘Eh, it’s the least I could do. I owe you a lot, lad.’
He smiled back at her. ‘Let’s just say we work well together.’ He noticed a frown slide across her face briefly. ‘What are you worrying about now?’
‘What’ll happen when you marry.’
‘I’m in no hurry to wed and I’ll never turn you out of your home, Phoebe. That I swear.’
So of course she was in tears again. Was there ever such a woman for weeping, and as often from joy as from sorrow, he thought as he watched her mop her eyes.
But it was good to have company in his daily life again. He’d never stopped missing his mother.
And best of all, he loved being his own man, whatever his father’s reasons for giving him the inn.
PART 2
1828
4
O ne day in early January Jack came home from work feeling exhausted. His heart sank as he heard from down the street his sister and mother screaming at one another. It embarrassed him to see the neighbours out on their doorsteps, listening and grinning.
He ran the last few yards and burst into the house to find Meg quivering with rage, clutching her precious pink shawl to her bosom. It was dirty at one end and there were muddy threads of pulled wool trailing from it. He knew she wouldn’t have worn the shawl to work because it was such a treasure to her that she kept it for best, hanging out of harm’s way on a nail he’d hammered in for her ’specially in the girls’ bedroom.
He had to shout to make himself heard. ‘What’s happened?’
Meg held the shawl out for his inspection. ‘She wore my shawl. Look at it! It’s all mucky an’ there are pulled threads.’ Tears rolled down her cheeks as she held the soft wool against her cheek.
He looked at his mother and for a moment saw shame flicker on her face – or hoped he did, because it was dreadful of her to have damaged Meg’s most precious possession.
Then Netta tossed her head, staring at him defiantly. ‘I only borrowed it to go down to the shops. It’s not my fault if I fell, is it?’
‘You damaged it on purpose,’ Meg shouted, ‘I know you did. I hate you, you wicked old hag!’
Netta went puce with fury, picked up the nearest object, which was a wooden bowl, and hurled it at her daughter, catching her on the temple.
The sobs cut off abruptly and Meg tumbled to the ground like a rag doll, lying still and frighteningly silent.
Jack rushed across the room to kneel and cradle his sister in his arms. ‘ What have you done, Mam? ’
‘She should have lent that shawl to me when I asked. I’m her mother and . . . Jack! ’
But he wasn’t listening. He was holding his sister close, watching the blood run down her temple and praying she wasn’t badly hurt.
To his relief, her eyes fluttered open but she looked up at him as if she didn’t know where she was, her expression that of a child puzzled by the unkind world around her. He remembered suddenly what a bonny, mischievous little girl she had been. She wasn’t bonny now, she was gaunt, and her eyes had a bruised look to them, as if the world was dealing harshly with her. Well, it was. It had dealt harshly with all of them since his father’s death. But their mother didn’t make it any easier.
As she realised where she was, Meg’s vague expression vanished to be replaced by one of deep sadness. ‘I can’t stand any more of this. I’m going to ask Ben to take me away. Even if she won’t give permission for us to wed, anything will be better than living with her .’ She put up her hand to her forehead. ‘It hurts, Jack. Everything hurts.’
Determination to help her rose in him. She, at least, should escape the unpleasantness their mother seemed to generate. He helped Meg sit up, then went and poured some clean water from the
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