Shining Threads by Audrey Howard Read Free Book Online Page B

revert to the broad northern vowels of his youth. ‘If I could have you clapped in gaol or flogged at the
cart-tail, by God I would, but I know the magistrates in these parts, aye, an’ the rest o’t country an’ all.’ His voice was bitter. ‘Throw up their hands they would if
it were one o’ their own but some poor workin’ lass’d be nowt to them. So get yer gone before I have yer thrashed in’t yard fer all to see. An’ don’t go
lookin’ fer work in south Lancashire fer I’ll make sure you find none.’
    The man had gone and Charlie and Edwards stood uneasily side by side in the cabin.
    ‘I can’t abide that sort o’ thing, Edwards,’ Charlie Greenwood said at last.
    ‘Nay, sir, tha don’t ’ave ter say ’owt ter me,’ Edwards protested. ‘I can’t say as ’ow, if I’m ’onest, I agree wi’ all tha
methods in’t mill but I don’t like ter see a lass taken down, especially as young as that ’un.’
    Charlie looked surprised at Edwards words. ‘What is it you don’t agree with then?’ He was calmer now, glad it seemed, to talk of normal, everyday things.
    ‘I don’t reckon it ’arms some o’ them bigger lads to ’ave a bit o’ discipline now an’ again.’ Edwards stuck his chin out. ‘I ’ad a few
thrashin’s in me life an’ it did me no arm.’
    ‘Happen not, but I’ll not have it in my mill, think on. And you’re not the only one, lad, to have been given a beating. Where d’you think I got this face of mine? Not in
the prize-fighting ring, I can tell you.’
    ‘Aye . . . well . . .’ Edwards cleared his throat and moved towards the smashed doorway. He’d said his piece though much good it would do him. ‘If that’ll be all,
sir, I’ll get back ter me work. Them women out theer are runnin’ about like ’eadless chickens and the machines all tangled up. It’ll tekk the best part of an hour ter sort
’em out. Oh, an’ I’ll ’ave to ’ave another chap ter take place o’t . . .’
    ‘Right, Edwards . . . and thanks for stopping me from killing that . . . bastard. He deserved it but I wouldn’t like to swing for him, just the same.’
    ‘No, sir.’
    He was still brooding, lounging against the cabin wall, his narrowed eyes staring at where the child had stood but seeing pictures which seemed to grieve him when Annie Beale slipped across the
threshold, pale as wood-ash and just as insubstantial.
    ‘Thanks, Mr Greenwood,’ she said quietly.
    ‘Nay, lass. I’m only sorry that it happened in my mill and that we didn’t get to her in time to . . .’ He struggled awkwardly with the words since he was a man and
ashamed of his own masculinity at that moment. ‘Why didn’t you report him to Mr Edwards as soon as the bugger took her into the cabin?’
    ‘It’s not my place ter tell one tackler what t’other’s up to, sir, you know that.’ She looked quite shocked and he was saddened that even now, after all these years
of enlightened treatment, this girl was still afraid of a system which might lose her her job if she ‘spoke out’.
    ‘But . . .’
    ‘Anyroad, sir . . .’ she interrupted smoothly, seeing no need to dwell on something which could not be undone. ‘I’ve cleaned ’er up an’ she’s back
in’t jennygate . . .’
    ‘Good God!’
    ‘Aye, well there’s bread ’as ter be found an’ only way ter pay fer it is wi’ brass what we both earn.’
    Charlie sprang away from the wall and almost lifting her from her feet led her from the office. His face was contorted with anger, not at her but at the circumstances which forced this girl,
scarcely more than a child herself by the size of her, to accept not only what had been done to her sister but that she must be prepared to ‘clean her up’ and return her to her work as
though nothing untoward had happened. And this was his mill, known throughout Lancashire as a model mill; a model mill built on the spot where once had stood row upon row of mean
hovels thrown up by Kit