couple of doors away for sleep and sustenance, if he ever ate anything, which Mick doubted.
Ed’s gift to him was constancy. Nothing else got done. Somehow Mick didn’t want the women there who cleaned; he couldn’t stand it. The house and the pub sank beneath the weight of his sadness and nothing came to alleviate it.
7
TOW LAW TOWN, 1906
At first Emma had faltered. The journey had been so long and every day she had told herself a hundred times that this was a very bad mistake and she would end up going back to New England and admitting that she was wrong and marrying Judge Philips, though now that Laurence had gone back and told his tale the Judge would not have her, the town would never accept her. These thoughts had driven her on. There was no going back. She was three thousand miles away, across an ocean. There was some relief in that.
George had spent the days on board ship running about the decks with other children and getting to know the crew so that they called him by name. He ate hungrily and slept well and was a good sailor. When they landed in England and boarded a train he was up at the window most of the time in case he should miss anything which they passed. It was all new and he was determined not to miss a second of it.
A savage wind bit her ankles as Emma got down from the train, holding George’s hand so tightly that he objected.
‘Is there a hotel?’ she asked the stationmaster.
‘There’s nowt like that here, lass,’ the stationmaster said.
She didn’t know what to do now. They had eaten sparingly for days. All she had left were her mother’s pearls and in the end she knew she would pawn or sell them, but she did not know what awaited her so she had clung to the comforting idea that she still had funds.
She had thought Liverpool was a lot nearer than it was. It was meant to be in the north but this place was a lot further north, not so very far from the border with Scotland and on the opposite side of the country. She had forgotten or not known any English geography.
She had finally reached her destination and it was indeed the very middle of nowhere. There was nothing for miles but this little town. It should have been spring, but showed no signs of such. When they had stepped from the train a keen biting wind was hurling big flakes of snow about. She could not believe she had been so stupid as to bring George to this godforsaken place.
‘We need somewhere to stay,’ she said to the stationmaster, but even as she spoke he had turned his back and was walking away.
She was beginning to feel that she had come here for no better reason than her own stupid will. The voices from the past which had urged her were silent now, making her feel foolish, making her panic. Her memories did not include this windswept road. Had she come to the wrong town? It was nothing more than a few streets set on a bleak hillside, the houses small, shabby, badly built, crouched low there as though trying to get beneath thebad weather. The main street was wide and an icy wind rushed through as though it could not wait to get to the moors. Surely she had not been born here? But her memory told her that she had.
The station was deserted. She could not stand here any longer. It was growing colder and the light had already faded from the day. She picked up her bags and began walking in what she thought was the direction of town. The street was flat where she stood and the railway crossing was at the bottom of it. On either side the street rose sharply into hills and there were houses snaking up it and public houses, lit up. She thought she should go and enquire about a room, but men hung around the outside of most of these establishments in spite of the weather as though they did not get to spend much time outside, and she dared not approach them.
She thought about how her window at home looked out at the street and the trees and the white wooden houses. Here tiny terraced houses ran for as far as she could
Ed’s gift to him was constancy. Nothing else got done. Somehow Mick didn’t want the women there who cleaned; he couldn’t stand it. The house and the pub sank beneath the weight of his sadness and nothing came to alleviate it.
7
TOW LAW TOWN, 1906
At first Emma had faltered. The journey had been so long and every day she had told herself a hundred times that this was a very bad mistake and she would end up going back to New England and admitting that she was wrong and marrying Judge Philips, though now that Laurence had gone back and told his tale the Judge would not have her, the town would never accept her. These thoughts had driven her on. There was no going back. She was three thousand miles away, across an ocean. There was some relief in that.
George had spent the days on board ship running about the decks with other children and getting to know the crew so that they called him by name. He ate hungrily and slept well and was a good sailor. When they landed in England and boarded a train he was up at the window most of the time in case he should miss anything which they passed. It was all new and he was determined not to miss a second of it.
A savage wind bit her ankles as Emma got down from the train, holding George’s hand so tightly that he objected.
‘Is there a hotel?’ she asked the stationmaster.
‘There’s nowt like that here, lass,’ the stationmaster said.
She didn’t know what to do now. They had eaten sparingly for days. All she had left were her mother’s pearls and in the end she knew she would pawn or sell them, but she did not know what awaited her so she had clung to the comforting idea that she still had funds.
She had thought Liverpool was a lot nearer than it was. It was meant to be in the north but this place was a lot further north, not so very far from the border with Scotland and on the opposite side of the country. She had forgotten or not known any English geography.
She had finally reached her destination and it was indeed the very middle of nowhere. There was nothing for miles but this little town. It should have been spring, but showed no signs of such. When they had stepped from the train a keen biting wind was hurling big flakes of snow about. She could not believe she had been so stupid as to bring George to this godforsaken place.
‘We need somewhere to stay,’ she said to the stationmaster, but even as she spoke he had turned his back and was walking away.
She was beginning to feel that she had come here for no better reason than her own stupid will. The voices from the past which had urged her were silent now, making her feel foolish, making her panic. Her memories did not include this windswept road. Had she come to the wrong town? It was nothing more than a few streets set on a bleak hillside, the houses small, shabby, badly built, crouched low there as though trying to get beneath thebad weather. The main street was wide and an icy wind rushed through as though it could not wait to get to the moors. Surely she had not been born here? But her memory told her that she had.
The station was deserted. She could not stand here any longer. It was growing colder and the light had already faded from the day. She picked up her bags and began walking in what she thought was the direction of town. The street was flat where she stood and the railway crossing was at the bottom of it. On either side the street rose sharply into hills and there were houses snaking up it and public houses, lit up. She thought she should go and enquire about a room, but men hung around the outside of most of these establishments in spite of the weather as though they did not get to spend much time outside, and she dared not approach them.
She thought about how her window at home looked out at the street and the trees and the white wooden houses. Here tiny terraced houses ran for as far as she could
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