Fair Fight by Anna Freeman Read Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t be easy for the reason that they were.
    Mr Dryer saw all this and said not a word to me. One day, mind, I came downstairs, meaning to go to The Hatchet, when Ma opened the parlour door and bid me step inside.
    Mr Dryer was there, sitting neatly upon the overstuffed settee, his hands upon his knee and his back very straight. He looked soberly at me, though he didn’t catch my eye. Rather, he looked me over as though considering me for a mill. Beside him, perched on a stool too small for him and scarlet about the mug, sat Tom. He looked about to cry. My belly shrank to see him. He was too good and, though it sounds wrong of me to say it, not sharp enough to be there. Ma and Mr Dryer were like to eat him alive.
    Ma stayed at the door so that I had to pass her too close and take in the sweet and rotten scent of her, grown stronger in recent days. She was still made up fine, with her dress cut low and her pearls – which I knew were paste – about her neck. Her face was painted as high as it always was. Below the paint the lumps were beginning then, one cheek pushing outward, her eye drawn out with it near to a slit and the white of it turned ruby. Her look was at its most stern and even I, who was so well used to it, had to grit my nerve to pass her. I suddenly saw how she must look to Tom. How brave and foolish he’d been to come there.
    I sat in the chair Ma pointed out to me, facing Tom and Mr Dryer. She came in, closed the door and placed herself beside Mr Dryer upon the settee. Now I was facing them, all in a line. First Ma, stern and lumpen, then Mr Dryer, neat and serious, then Tom, all hunched shoulders and sorry eyes.
    ‘Now, Ruth, this young lad,’ Ma made the words ‘young lad’ sound like a shabby thing, ‘has come to ask me for your hand.’
    I didn’t know what I’d expected to hear, but it wasn’t that. Tom looked as though he were regretting it. But oh, he’d come to ask for me. How silly he was, how simple! What kind of girl did he think he was asking for?
    ‘Of course,’ Ma was saying, ‘he wasn’t to know that the choice belongs to Mr Dryer as much as to myself. We’ve talked it over well, and we’re of a mind. He’s to have our blessing.’
    She looked hard at me then, as though I’d gasp in shock or gratitude. I was still a convent girl, mind. As much as she and Mr Dryer might be perched together acting the part of Ma and father, they’d never give me up in so easy and usual a fashion. I didn’t feel surprised or thankful. I felt only a sickness start up in the pit of my belly. Tom looked as though he wished himself gone.
    ‘Tom’s agreed to the terms. He’ll work for me, here in the house. When he’s earned back what I’ve laid out for your keep and the earnings I give up by losing you, then you’ll be married. Mr Dryer will keep you on; should you begin losing your fights, Tom will have to make up that loss as well. Marriage cannot break your bond to Mr Dryer. That will end only when he says so, unless you or Tom can clear your debt of years. Tom understands this.’
    Tom only looked miserable. How well did he know then what he’d done? He’d gone to ask for my freedom and instead he’d sold himself.
    ‘Don’t look so, Ruth,’ Ma said now. ‘You’re thinking that it will take years for Tom to pay back what I’d lose.’
    I wasn’t, I was only thinking how sorry he looked and how dearly he must wish he’d never met me. My eyes found the child in mourning dress, looking out of her little picture. Her eyes were nothing to Tom’s.
    ‘I’ve considered that,’ Ma said, ‘and he may have you now. Jane will move into the garret and you can make yourselves a room together in the cellar. Your married home,’ here she laughed. ‘Tom will begin work tonight and later he’ll have what he’s come asking for. Now, you’ve a bout tonight, Mr Dryer tells me, so go and do whatever it is you do to ready yourself. Your husband will stay here and learn the ways of the