Angel Meadow by Audrey Howard Page A

Mick,” Nancy answered tartly, for now and again, though she enjoyed his company and he made her laugh, Mick’s male belief that she was helpless without a man to do these things for her irritated her. She had been managing her own life and the lives of her sisters all these years and yet he insisted on the pretence that she’d be lost without him. And in such a short time, too! “Anyway, what d’you mean about the weekend?” she added to distract him.
    His face, which had begun to frown, cleared and he grinned, pleased with himself over something.
    “Well, I ’eard yer mention the Art . . . somethin’ or other . . . show.”
    “The Arts Treasures Exhibition?”
    “Aye, that’s the one.”
    “What about it?”
    “Yer said yer wanted ter see it.”
    He was most gratified by the way her face lit up and when her hand clutched at his arm, pulling him to a stop to face her he thought she was going to kiss him, right there in the street under the fascinated gaze of their neighbours.
    “Oh, Mick,” she breathed and he was bewitched, with her and with himself who was so bloody clever.
    “Does that mean yer do?” He grinned mischievously.
    “Oh, Mick.”
    He preened himself, looking about him to see if the spectators had noticed the way Nancy Brody, who bothered with no one, was clinging to Mick O’Rourke’s arm.
    “Well, I reckon if it’s good enough fer ’Is ’Ighness Prince Albert, an’ I ’eard tell t’Queen’s comin’ in a week or two then ’tis good enough fer Mick O’Rourke an’ Nancy Brody.”
    “What about us, Mick?” Mary and Rose clamoured, and with an expression of false sorrow he told them the lie he had prepared.
    “Eeh, darlin’s, I only wish it were possible, so I do, but only two at a time the chap told me.” He turned to Nancy. “I’ve bin over there terday ter mekk enquiries, yer see.”
    Nancy withdrew a little and her face became uncertain. It was all right to go about with Mick with her sisters accompanying them but to go somewhere, just her and Mick, seemed to her to be making a declaration on which the wrong interpretation might be put. She had no interest in the impish young Irishman, much as she liked his company, for he played no part in her future plans. In fact, when the time came he would only stand in their way. But surely just this once it could do no harm? There was nothing she wanted more than to see what was described in the Illustrated London News , which she had read at the library, as the “scene of an event almost unique in the history of art in England and perhaps the world”. She was still no more than a cotton spinner, no matter how she bettered herself; and in all her life, until Mick took them to Belle Vue, she had known nothing beyond the perimeter of Angel Meadow. Was she confident enough to go alone, or with Mary and Rose, to walk among what she was sure would be the gentry, in her second-hand cotton dress and straw bonnet? Would it cost more than she could afford or was willing to part with? Would they even let her in? Her ignorance of the world outside books was enormous but she had to start somewhere and this might as well be it.
    Her smile was radiant and Mick’s heart swelled with some emotion he did not recognise and ignoring the sullen muttering of Rose and the sigh of envy from Mary he pushed open their front door and ushered them inside.
    At once, knowing exactly how he should treat this lovely, shining, grateful girl, he stayed on the doorstep, smiling.
    “I’ll see yer then, Nancy,” he told her, curbing his need to be bold and manly, then turned and whistled his way to his own front door.

6
    Joshua Hayes ran lightly down the back stairs, along the passage and through the enormous kitchen where half a dozen women were working. He winked at several on his way, before striding out into the sunlit yard. A pretty girl in a frilly mob cap and a snowy apron, with a laundry basket on her hip, sauntered towards him across the yard and