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
“A pint of bitter, please,” he said, ordering the same as Jack and pushing a few coins over the bar. Once it was poured, he and Jack clinked glasses.
The two men chatted about odd things in general for a few minutes, as they savored their beer. But after a moment or two, Patrick put his glass down on the bar.
Leaning into Jack, he said, “I’ve stumbled into a problem, and I need your help. It could be a bit of trouble.”
Jack frowned and asked in a lowered voice, “Not trouble with that bloody housekeeper of Mrs. Burton’s again, I hope to God?”
“No, no, nothing like that. That’s long past, and like I told you, I’ve always declined the work Mrs. Burton offered since. It’s to do with young Finn, Blackie’s friend.”
“What kind of trouble?” As he asked this Jack glanced around the taproom, saw that it was filling up and growing noisy. “Tell me what’s wrong, Pat. Nobody can hear—a rowdy crowd as usual on Saturdays.”
“It’s about a girl—”
“Not that old story, I hope. Don’t tell me he’s gone and got—”
“No, no, nothing like that, Jack. It’s about a girl he’s keen to meet.” After a long swallow of beer, Patrick told him the whole story about Tommy O’Hara’s letter, and, more important, about where Moira Aherne lived.
“In the Ham Shank!” Jack was looking horrified, and after a moment continued, “Who in God’s name would send a young and probably naïve Irish lass to live in that piss pot? I suppose someone who doesn’t know what a hellhole it is, and the most dangerous place in Leeds. It’s full of navvies and the unemployed.”
“The most dangerous place for a lass, I’d say. Look, I said I’d go with Finn and Blackie next Saturday morning, to pick her up and take her to have a bite to eat at a café nearby, if there is one—”
“Best go to the Blue Door,” Jack interrupted. “You’ve always liked that place and they know you well.”
“I agree. I was wondering if you’d fancy coming with me to the Ham Shank. How about it, Jack?”
“Try and bloody stop me! Course I’m going with you. Do you think I’d let you go alone to that bleeding place? Not on your life, Patrick. Even a Saturday morning could be tough to handle. Weekends they’re all on the booze, and being as violent as hell. There are a lot of brawls.”
“My worry is that the girl is living there, apparently with an aunt or a cousin.…” Pat paused, shook his head. “She shouldn’t have been sent there; you know that. I can’t help feeling we ought to get her out of there, and as fast as we can.”