Heart of Coal by Jenny Pattrick Read Free Book Online

Rusty is known as a card. ‘Enter not! In God’s name steer clear!’ he cries. He buttons his coat against the cold, flaps his plump little hands. ‘It’s a maelstrom in there!’
    Inch is more doleful. He nods sadly in the direction of the house. ‘Madam is not pleased. And I am the originator of the bad news. In a manner of speaking. I advise you to come up to the saloon for a while, Mr Stringer.’
    ‘What’s up, then?’ asks Henry. ‘Is it over Michael?’ For the last two weeks, though Rose appears to have sanctioned the engagement and certainly sports the diamond ring, she and Michael have not been seen together, which is unusual — they are known to be thick as thieves. Bella’s views on Michael as a son-in-law are not known. She is silent on the subject, which would suggest disapproval, as she is open with her opinions on just about everything else.
    ‘No, no, not Michael,’ says Rusty. ‘It’s Rose herself. Inch had to let her go.’
    ‘From my employ,’ adds Inch, and sighs. ‘Her pretty hand was in the till. More than once.’
    ‘You had to do it,’ says Rusty with some satisfaction. Both are rivals for Bella’s affection (full marriage would be an unrealistic dream), and the present situation will perhaps tip the scales in his favour. ‘You have ignored the matter too long as it is, Inch.’
    Inch shakes his head dolefully, pulls out a spotless handkerchief, dabs his nose. His long face seems to grow longer as if some invisible hand is pulling down the fabric of his skin. Inch is as tall and thin as his rival is short and plump. His hands are said to be able to measure almost two yards at full stretch. His beanpole frame does not fit well with his beloved Bella’s majestic proportions, and Rusty is no better — more prancing puppy than beau. Nevertheless, the two persevere. Nobody believes Bella will choose one of her‘gentlemen’. It is a game. A game enjoyed by all — even, perhaps, the mournful Inch — and kept alive by tiny favours: a smile, a glass of port after dinner, a soft pat on the hand. Anything more would not only be out of character for the dignified ‘black widow’ but would bring down the unfettered wrath of a jealous Rose.
    Henry waves the men away up the track. ‘I’ll wait a little and see,’ he says. He stands casually at the gate but he is listening, with more interest than is proper, to the argument inside.
    ‘Why, why, why?’ Bella is shouting. ‘It makes no sense! None!’
    Rose’s voice is quieter now, though certainly it was raised a little earlier. On the pretext of finding shelter to light his pipe, Henry moves closer to the veranda.
    ‘… understand me?’ Rose is saying, ‘Leave me alone. Don’t try!’
    ‘How can I help it?’ wails Bella. ‘My own daughter! Should I abandon interest? Walk away? Rosie, Rosie, what can I do?’
    There’s a pause. Henry wants to look in the window but won’t go that far.
    ‘Mama,’ says Rose in a gentler voice. Henry smiles and shakes his head. The word ‘Mama’ will always cut ice with Bella, and Rose knows it. ‘Mama, I’m sorry. Truly, it means nothing.’
    ‘Nothing!’
    ‘It simply happens. The money is there. I am bored. I take it.’
    ‘Rose, Rosie. It’s wrong .’
    Rose snorts. ‘I’m not robbing the bank, Mama. It’s a shilling here and there. It’s a game. A game, that’s all. You know that.’
    ‘Not to Mr Donaldson, it’s not. He sees it as wrong. Any employer would. Any person would.’
    ‘Oh, Mr Donaldson!’ The voice is heavy with scorn. ‘That stick of limp rhubarb! When he found out, I said he could dock my wages. I would have paid it back anyway …’
    ‘Why didn’t you, then? Why do it in the first place?’
    Rose says something so quietly that Henry misses the words, despite the fact that he is by now almost under the window. Bella’s heavy sigh, though, is clear enough.
    ‘Ah, Rose, my dear, my darling one, what can we do with you?’
    Rose laughs. ‘Do