Chapters (64)
- Cover
- Title page
- Dedication page
- A Week’s Work in Birmingham
- I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- II
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- III
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Acknowledgements
- Further Reading
- About the Author
- By the Same Author
‘No, Mom! I told you – Annie works at Masters and Hogg with me,’ Lizzie said. ‘Her uncle’s Mr Watts – the goldsmith in Chain Street.’
Mary looked even more perplexed. ‘But – you’re not from round ’ere?’
‘No,’ Annie said. ‘My sister and I are just staying for a bit.’ She did not want any more questions.
‘But – why would you want to help us?’
‘It’s just what a Christian person should do,’ Annie said firmly.
Mary looked taken aback. ‘’Ow old are you, then?’ she said, bewildered. ‘Tiny little slip of a thing.’
‘I’m seventeen,’ Annie said, growing impatient at all these questions. ‘Mrs Poole – what has happened? Lizzie tells me that your husband has not come home for . . . for some time?’
At this, Mary Poole dropped the card she was sewing onto the table. She put her head in her hands and her shoulders started to shake.
‘I don’t know what to do for the best,’ she wept. ‘I don’t know where ’e is – and I can’t go on like this . . .’
Annie glanced at Lizzie, whose eyes were also full of tears. ‘Don’t, Mom,’ she said, but she could not help crying as well.
Annie waited a moment, wondering what to say next. She was steeling herself to hear about the feckless Mr Poole’s desertion of them. She was surprised that Mary and Lizzie showed no sign of anger with the vanished head of the family.
‘Have you been to the police?’ she asked eventually.
Mary sat up as if someone had knocked on her spine. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.
‘No. Not the coppers! I dunno where he’s gone and I’m worried sick but I . . . I don’t know what they might do to ’im.’
‘Has he committed a crime?’ Annie asked, looking from one woman to the other. Lizzie was watching her mother with wide, upset eyes.
‘My Wilf? No – course he ain’t. He just . . .’ More tears ran down her cheeks. ‘’E ain’t right. See, he couldn’t keep a job even before he went off. ’E was all right before – before the accident, I mean. Worked for years, Wilf did, and we got by. But ’e was working at Coopers, on the lathes, like, making saucepans. One of the belts caught ’im – threw ’im up against the ceiling. And then . . .’ Weeping, she went on. ‘When ’is sleeve tore off, it dropped ’im down and he hit his head again. ’E come ’ome all rags, blood all down him. Well, ’e healed up all right – on the outside. But ’e was never the same after – ’e just weren’t my Wilf any more.’ She shook her head despairingly.
‘He tried to get back to work but he couldn’t seem to do anything. Wouldn’t go near the machines. He couldn’t sleep – he wasn’t right. And then one day, he just went . . .’