Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
He switched his thoughts to the following day. Saturday. Tomorrow Uncle Patrick was taking him to Leeds to have “the grand tour,” as Uncle Pat had called it. In 1896, three years ago, Leeds had been named a city, because of its size, its growing industries and its cathedral. That was important, “an imperative.” Uncle Pat had explained, “A town cannot be named a city if it doesn’t have a cathedral.” And Blackie had understood exactly what he meant.
There was a cathedral he wanted to see for himself one day. It was in York, and it was very, very old … maybe almost eight hundred years old.… The pictures he had seen of it had captivated him. He would go, he promised himself, when he was rich.
Blackie sat at the desk in his bedroom, painstakingly writing letters. He had promised to let his cousins, as well as Mrs. O’Malley and Cook, know he had arrived safely.
In her thoughtful way, Siobhan had given him a packet of notepaper and envelopes when he was packing to leave, plus a sixpenny bit “for the stamps,” she had explained.
Once the short letters were finished, notes really, he sat back in the chair, glancing around the room. It was small, there were no two ways about that, but he could not get over the wonderful thing of the privacy.… He didn’t have to share it. And despite its small size, it had plenty of space for his few clothes, his only possessions, except for his book about the Tudors, given to him by Father O’Donovan before he had left North Kerry. He truly treasured that.
During their walk around Upper Armley, earlier in the day, Patrick had pointed out Armley Public Library and told him how he could get a library card so that he could take out books to read. Blackie, with his usual string of questions, knew all about the library system in a few minutes. He couldn’t wait to join. The thought of shelves filled with hundreds of books thrilled him no end. He was certain he would find some about architecture and engineering, history and maybe even building work. He couldn’t get enough of them.
He felt full for once and relaxed. Walking across the room in two strides, he lay down on the bed, sighing with pleasure at the feeling of comfort this gave him. He was warm enough and he couldn’t believe his luck.
Well, here he was at last, in Leeds with Uncle Pat, and all set and ready to go. On Monday morning. He was happy. Work appealed to him. He enjoyed being busy, and he knew he was lucky to have a relative who was willing to take him into his business as an apprentice and also let him share his home.
Although the house on Town Street was small and simply furnished, it was neat and clean, and had an air of welcome about it.