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Back Sisters of Gold
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. A Week’s Work in Birmingham
  5. I
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. II
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. III
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Forty-Three
  51. Forty-Four
  52. Forty-Five
  53. Forty-Six
  54. Forty-Seven
  55. Forty-Eight
  56. Forty-Nine
  57. Fifty
  58. Fifty-One
  59. Fifty-Two
  60. Fifty-Three
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. Further Reading
  63. About the Author
  64. By the Same Author

They waited, trying to keep busy, kept saying the same things. As Aunt Hatt pointed out, by now the two of them could be anywhere and as Annie pointed out, Charles was most likely lying anyway and had taken Margaret somewhere completely different. The afternoon passed, evening fell and dragged so slowly it was as if all the clocks had stopped. Daisy knocked on the door, and then her father. Aunt Hatt told them, gently, some of what had happened. And still Margaret and Charles had not come back, and they wondered all over again whether they should have gone, should have done something more than summoning the girls’ father.

‘What do we do, Eb?’ Hatt appealed to him, as they got ready for what would be a sleepless night together. ‘I should have stopped her – I feel terrible!’

‘Well, how were you to know?’ he said, sitting down heavily on the side of the bed. ‘We’ll just have to hope to God this is all a storm in a teacup and the wench gets back here tomorrow sometime. Otherwise – well, it’ll be the cops, I s’pose.’

‘I don’t even know if she took any money,’ Hatt said tearfully.

‘Eh – now then, old girl – don’t you get all worked up,’ he said, having been the one who was the most worked up all afternoon. He climbed into bed and put his arm round Hatt’s heaving shoulders. ‘None of this is your fault. That’s it – you cuddle up to me.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s all beyond me. Sounds as if Old Man Hanson’s done those girls a great wrong . . . Always was a stubborn one, him. But all these goings-on – there’s me thinking these God-fearing folk never get up to anything. I mean, that little wench knocking the feller out cold!’ A chuckle broke from him. ‘We’ll ’ave to watch ourselves with that one!’

‘It’s not funny, Eb,’ Hatt said crossly, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m worried to death.’

‘I know, bab.’ He turned and looked at her, his eyes sober now with concern. ‘Me too.’

To Margaret’s relieved surprise, there was a train leaving Oxford for Birmingham at seven twenty. Thanks to the kind coalman, she had enough for a third-class ticket with only a farthing to spare. She said prayers of thanks for this miracle as she climbed into the carriage, immediately looking out to scan the platform in case he had come after her. Even once the train had pulled out of Oxford station, she was ill at ease, half expecting to see Charles Barber appear from somewhere. But time passed and nothing happened. She began to relax just a fraction and breathe more easily, sending up more grateful prayers.