Down Weaver's Lane by Anna Jacobs Read Free Book Online

had sewn into her skirt waistband.
    ‘Because it’ll keep you safe for a year or two, that’s why. It’s a good thing you’re so small or we’d never get away with it. If your breasts start to grow we’ll have to bind them flat.’ Madge fished out their small mirror from one of the bundles, studied her face in it and searched for her rouge pot, leaving things lying all over the table as she did so. She slapped the colour on with a liberal hand. ‘There, that’s better.’ She pinched Emmy’s cheek affectionately. ‘Now we’re both nice and rosy.’ Picking up her shawl, she draped it round herself before turning towards the door, fluffing up her hair absent-mindedly with one hand.
    ‘Aren’t you going to wear your bonnet, Mum?’
    ‘No, I’m not. It’s a small town. By the end of the evening, everyone’s going to know what I am.’ Taking a deep breath, she led the way out, tossing her hair back and fixing another of those bright, glassy smiles on her face.
     
    It was a week before Isaac Butterfield found out that his sister had returned to Northby. He was writing out invoices in his small private office when the overlooker poked his head round the door. ‘Good. You’re alone.’
    It was not unusual for Martin Graslow to call in for a chat, because the two men were old friends, but when he glanced furtively over his shoulder before slipping into the office and pulling the door to behind him - a door that was never normally closed during working hours - Isaac put down his quill pen with a sense of foreboding. He sat bolt upright with his hands resting on either side of the ledger while he waited to find out what was wrong. Wasn’t it enough that they’d lost some of their workers in the recent troubles, that the town was still uneasy, that folk scowled at him as he passed, that someone had thrown mud at his wife?
    Martin swallowed and seemed to be having difficulty speaking, so Isaac said brusquely, ‘Spit it out, man!’
    ‘I thought I’d better come and warn you, lad. Your Madge is back in Northby.’
    Isaac could not move for a moment or two, so shocked was he. ‘Are you - sure it’s her?’
    ‘Aye. My sister thought she saw her in town, so I asked round, quiet-like. When I heard there was a new barmaid at the Horse and Rider, I went to see for myself. And there’s no doubt about it. It is your Madge.’ He’d been shocked at how raddled she looked, though, she who had once been the most beautiful girl in Northby.
    Isaac didn’t doubt his friend because in his youth Martin had come courting Madge for a time. ‘What was she doing there? Serving?’
    ‘Serving, singing and - eh, lad, I’m sorry to have to tell you, but she’s whoring too.’
    Isaac spoke in a tight voice. ‘She turned into a whore a long time ago, after that fellow she was living with died. His family paid her off, but you know Madge. She never could manage her money. She wrote to Father for help, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with her.’
    Martin gaped at his friend. ‘You never said!’
    ‘Is it likely I’d tell folk? Especially you, lad. I thought at least she’d have the sense to stay away from Northby. I ... he stared down at his clenched fists for a moment, remembering, ‘... I went to see her after Father died, when I heard she was in need. She had a child, a bonny little lass. I gave her some money on condition she never came back to Northby and she promised faithfully she wouldn’t. But our Madge never could keep a promise - as you know better than most.’
    Martin’s voice softened for a moment. ‘I was sorry to lose her, she was such a pretty little thing. But Emerick Reynolds was besotted with her and his family had money, so I thought she was set for life.’ He sighed. ‘She looks old now, Isaac, old and worn.’
    ‘Shop-soiled, you mean!’ Isaac snapped, and it was a minute or two before he could rein in his anger and pull himself together. ‘Thank you for letting me know, lad. I’ll