A sixpence for christmas, p.1
A Sixpence for Christmas, page 1
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For Amelia and Oliver. With all my love.
Chapter 1
Leeds 1895
Meg Fairfax threaded her way in and out of the busy Leeds market. She was on the scrounge for that night’s supper and with little money in her purse, she needed to spend her sixpence wisely. Ever since Ted Lund had blackened her name, accusing her of stealing from the bakery that she had built up from nothing, she had been struggling to keep herself, her mother and her young sister, Sarah, fed. Now, even though the kind Joe Dinsdale had proved Ted Lund, the miserable baker, to be wrong, she could no longer work, looking after her dying mother. She was thankful that if things got too hard she had the love of her life Frankie to help her, but only if she truly was down to her last farthing. She had her pride.
Already, she’d bartered with the friendly butcher. He’d agreed to lower the price for pigs’ trotters. Now, they sat in her basket, pink and pointing.
She made her way to her old friend Roger’s stall. With a bit of luck, he might share vegetables that were past their best. The sounds and smells of the market filled the air, and for a short while she forgot her worries as she chatted to the local stallholders she had known all her life.
Every day was a battle to keep her pride and dignity, but better times were around the corner. She kept telling herself this as she stood in line. Then, she spotted Mick on the fruit stall.
He came over to talk to her in his soft Irish drawl. ‘Now then, Meg – how are things? Mother still in a bad way?’
‘Yes. Worse if anything,’ Meg said quietly, as she shifted up the queue.
‘I’m sorry, lass. You wouldn’t let a dog suffer in the same way the authorities have let her. Come over to see me once you’ve dealt with Casanova, here. I’ll give you something to take home.’ Before Meg could answer, Mick glanced over at his stall, as a woman sorted through his fruit and looked around her to be served.
‘Who’s Casanova?’ Meg asked, but Mick was already moving away, needing to serve his next customer.
Slowly, the row of women at Roger’s stall shuffled along. Surely, she would be next to be served? It was only as she approached the front of the line that she realized who Mick was calling Casanova. A young woman was standing next to Roger, his arm around her as she heard him telling a customer that she was about to be his wife.
Meg knew in an instant that her days of free vegetables had disappeared. Not that Roger had ever been particularly generous with his offerings, ever since she had dismissed his request to walk out with him. Still, the odd free potato and onion would be missed.
‘Meg, what can I do for you today?’ Roger’s long, greying hair was tucked behind his ears but his salt and pepper beard looked to be more trimmed than usual.
‘Just an onion, thanks.’ Meg knew that was all she had the money for in her purse. No freebies, today.
‘Right you are.’ Roger passed her an onion and held his hand out for payment.
Meg passed him a farthing and started to walk across to Mick when a hand touched her shoulder and she glimpsed two carrots being slipped into her basket next to the onion and trotters.
‘They’ll be better for a carrot with them,’ Roger said, quietly. ‘Have you heard that I’m to be wed? That’s Ruth, from Wakefield.’ Roger nodded across at the dark-haired woman who was serving his customers.
‘No, I’d not heard.’ Meg felt a blush coming to her cheeks. ‘I’m glad for you,’ she said sincerely. ‘I hope that you’ll both be happy. Thank you for the carrots – I can’t pay you for them, though.’
‘I know. I just want to make sure you’re all right. I’ll not be standing this market for much longer. I’m moving over to Wakefield. Ruth has two children there and she doesn’t want to uproot them to Leeds.’ Roger looked around at his stall’s queue. ’Take care, Meg, I have to go.’
‘You too, Roger. Thank you. I hope that you will be happy. You deserve it – you are a good man.’ Meg put her head down and walked to see Mick at his fruit stall.
‘That will not last, you know,’ Mick said, nodding over at Roger and his lady friend. ‘She’s got him under her thumb already. She’s after his money, that’s all, ya can tell.’ Mick shook his head and watched as his old friend started to serve his customers with Ruth giving orders.
‘She might not be. She looks as if she loves him to me, she never takes her eyes off him. She didn’t like me talking to him, I could tell.’ Meg looked across at the woman who was staring back at her.
‘No, because you may be after his brass! Anyway, there’s no fool like an old fool; I can’t do anything about it. Anyway, I hear that he’s not the only one that has a new love in his life, Meg. You’ve got yourself a fella and a wealthy one at that.’ Mick smiled and put some bruised apples from the back of the stall into her basket.
‘I might have, but he’s not that new. I’ve known him for a while now. But I don’t expect anything from him. I have my pride. He’s got his own problems and besides it isn’t his brass I’m interested in.’ Meg blushed. ‘Although he is good to me and I like him.’ She smiled and thanked Mick for her apples. He had always been good to her and knew that she liked to be independent and fend for herself and her mother. Their friendship was strong and she knew they would always be there for one another, no matter what.
‘Like him, tha should love him before he puts that ring on your finger and make sure that he’s not after nothing from you,’ Mick grinned.
Meg grinned back. ‘Well, it will certainly not be money or property because I’ve neither. It must be my charms Frankie’s fallen for.’
‘Aye, I can believe that. You have the charm of any leprechaun. You’ve charmed Roger and me out of many a piece of fruit and veg in your time. But I’m glad; it keeps your body and soul together. The world would be a sad place if we couldn’t show one another a bit of charity, to be sure. With your mother being ill and you still not able to find work, it’s the least I can do.’
‘I’m always grateful; I’ll bring you a piece of apple pie for your dinner if I get round to making it tonight, but my mother isn’t so good. In fact, I must be getting back to her, I shouldn’t have left her, but needs must.’
Meg smiled at Mick. He was always kind to her, although he could ill afford to give anything away, with five children and a wife to feed.
‘Well, take care. My prayers are with you and your ma. She’s been ill for too long,’ Mick said in farewell, before Meg made her way home.
* * *
Later in the afternoon, Frankie Pearson called in to see Meg to try to convince his fiancée to come and work for him. He looked around the sparse kitchen and listened to the heavy breathing of Meg’s mother from upstairs. Meg had just come down from taking her mother a drink, and was now sat at the small table.
Frankie had loved Meg since the first time he had seen her with her nose pressed against his newly opened patisserie. The differences in class were of little consequence to him; they both shared the same love of baking and Meg was a kind, thoughtful lass who had just fallen on hard times through no fault of her own. It was love at first sight as far as Frankie was concerned.
‘Meg, please come and work for me at my patisserie,’ Frankie began. ‘Only a few hours, just enough for me to pay you a small living. If your mother was too ill to leave, I’d understand and would manage without you. Please – give it some thought.’ He sat down opposite Meg, wanting her to understand he was offering her assistance with no ties attached, but he knew her pride would not let her take a penny without earning it.
‘Please change your mind, I wouldn’t even have to train you, after the hours that we have shared together before your mother was this ill.’
She sighed. ‘You know I can’t leave my mother. Besides, I will never be accepted at the bakery upon the Headrow. I am more a backstreet baker… not even that, since Ted Lund and his spiteful words. I’d find it hard to work for you – I have my own ways – and I’d be tongue-tied every time a well-to-do customer entered the shop. And besides, my mother comes first. I can’t leave her alone while she is so ill.’ She felt her eyes suddenly spilling with tears.
Noticing immediately, Frankie reached out to squeeze Meg’s hand. ‘My love, I’m here for you, no matter what. I just thought that a few hours working alongside me would make a break in your day and help you financially. I’ll support you and your sister, no matter what. You have no cause to worry.’
‘I’m grateful, Frankie. Really, I don’t expect you to, I don’t need charity. I just need my mother to recover, which I know is asking the impossible. She’s nearly at the end of her days, after all, which I’m finding hard enough to deal with. Give me time, and then I will happily be by your side and help out in the bakery… but not the shop.’
Meg tried to smile. After working for Ted Lund, she had come to realize that she would rather be the owner of her own business although the idea of that was like shooting for the moon.
‘I’ll look forward to that day. The tea room will soon be opening, too. I’ll need some of your good wholesome baking to encourage my customers to partake of a cup of tea and a fancy of their cho
Frankie pushed back his chair and went to Meg, putting his arms around her. ‘I love you, you know that, I only mean to look after you,’ he whispered. She stood in his arms for a minute quietly.
‘You, your sister Sarah and your mother could come and live with me, you know,’ Frankie said eventually. ‘My house is large enough. We could get married and make it all legal, and then you wouldn’t have to bear the worry all alone.’
Frankie held her tight and kissed her neck gently, holding her slim waist tight to him. Meg buried her head into his shoulder and smelt the French cologne on his clothes that she knew was his favourite and once again felt the comfort and love that Frankie had given her without question over the past few trying months.
‘I know, my love. But this is where my mother loves, it is where her heart lies. I can’t move her. Besides, Sarah will no doubt have something to say about our plans once she gets to find out what we are about?’
Frankie looked slightly irritated at the thought of Meg’s unruly sister but tried to stay calm. ‘Then if you are happy to stay here, I will help all that I can. If you need a doctor please tell me, I’ll pay his fees. Hopefully, the laudanum that I brought with me will keep her free of pain for a while. She seems to be sleeping since you took it up upon my arrival.’
He held Meg close. With her mother being so ill, and her sister such a headstrong and abrupt personality, he sometimes wished that he could just whisk Meg away from her life of poverty living in Sykes Yard. He loved her but had not bargained for also having to love her family too.
‘Yes, thank you. One day I hope I’ll be able to pay you,’ Meg said. ‘And thank you also for the groceries that you had Dinsdale’s deliver to me. There really was no need. I’d already visited the market this morning. It was very kind and too much… but most gratefully accepted.’ Meg stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again. ‘I do love you, Frankie.’
He left her arms and reached for his top hat from the kitchen table. ‘And I you, my dear. I must go. I have an appointment to look around a property that is for sale in Headingley. Now that my patisserie on the Headrow is proving to be popular and the tea room is nearly up and running, I’m looking to expand. A good businessman doesn’t stand still.’ Frankie smiled at the surprise on Meg’s face.
‘Another property? A bakery?’ Meg asked as she walked him to the doorway.
‘Hopefully a patisserie, my dear – not just a bakery by the time that I have finished with it. It needs a lot of work… The building on the main street in Headingley is in a shocking condition, but that is how I like them. Then I can make a fresh start when I have new plans drawn up. One day, Pearson’s name will be on every street corner in Leeds – and the whole of Yorkshire, if I have my way.’
Frankie kissed Meg on the cheek before saying goodbye to her on the step, leaving her to watch him as he made his way along the pavement.
Meg closed the door. Then she sat down in the chair that once had been occupied most days by her mother, back when she was well. She relished the silence, the peace of her mother sleeping upstairs, nursed and cared for, and the steady ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. She could still smell the comforting scent of Frankie’s cologne in the air.
Why did her husband-to-be want to be beholden to her? She was not the same class as him; she was a penniless lass from the Leeds back streets. That’s what she and her family had always been. Yet, he seemed to have given his heart to her and she had willingly given hers to him with every beat when she looked into his eyes with love.
Meg smiled as she thought of her handsome dark-haired beau with the slight French accent that made him all the more alluring. He did love her – she knew he loved her – but still, she couldn’t understand why. She was not beautiful, nor eloquent or wealthy – none of the things that a man of his standing should look in a woman.
He was an astute businessman from what he told her and the way he acted. His ambition to have a patisserie on every street corner would come to pass, if he had his way. However, she still felt uncomfortable to think that she would eventually have to get used to dealing with Leeds’ upper classes if she was to support her husband-to-be. Those days were a long way off, though – surely?
She looked around the small walls of her home and listened for the pained sounds made by her mother as she battled the year’s past cancer. This was a battle that would not be won. The weight had dropped from her bones and clearly the pain was becoming more intense as the days passed.
After her mother’s death, Meg would have to decide what to do with her life – and that of her sister Sarah, who would soon be twelve.
Twelve. Only twelve.
The idea of going to live with Frankie, to marry him… That was uppermost in her mind. as she went to prepare supper for the three of them. At least, her trip to Dinsdale’s Groceries had kept her informed of the local gossip. He was a good lad, George. He’d been the one who had cleared her name when Ted Lund had accused her of theft. She owed him a lot.
She began to peel the vegetables, placing them in a stockpot over the fire, along with pearl barley, onions and simmering pigs’ trotters. A cheap but filling broth, accompanied by homemade bread, would be grand for Sarah to return to after a day at the mill. Warm her through; keep her strength up.
Once everything was settled above the fire, Meg quietly made her way up the stairs to the bedroom that all three women shared. It smelt of damp, mixed with the odour of the medicinal concoctions that helped to keep Agnes alive. There was very little furniture in the room apart from the two beds. Her mother lay in one, and the other she shared with her young sister.
Never had there been time for frivolities in Meg’s life – but of late, things had worsened. Since her dismissal from Ted Lund’s bakery, Meg had been searching for work, but her mother came first – always.
She looked down at her mother, asleep. Her lungs were silent for once, apart from the occasional rasping breath – a sign of the disease that had been eating the dear woman alive.
Meg straightened up and glanced at her reflection in the mottled glass of the mirror that hung on the bedroom wall. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and studied her features. She had a good figure but she found her looks plain. Nothing for Frankie to be attracted to, she thought as she heard the kitchen door opening. It would be her sister, returning from her shift at the weaving mill where she worked as an odd-job girl. Sarah never had been too caught up in school work.
‘Meg, are you up there?’ her sister yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
‘Yes! Keep your voice down,’ Meg hissed, stepping out onto the landing. ‘Mam’s asleep, for a change.’ She made her way downstairs and into the kitchen, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Sarah was sat at the table, reaching down to unlace her boots. ‘Your fella’s been, I can smell him. That cologne he wears always lingers, even over the stink of those pig’s trotters. He’s never been away of late.’ She massaged her toes and looked at the hole in her stocking that had become larger with the day’s tread. She had been on her feet for twelve hours straight, running errands throughout the mill and ensuring the ongoing supply of cotton to all the weavers. ‘I thought for a minute that you were perhaps rolling about in bed with him when you weren’t down here,’ she added, with a cheeky grin.
Meg felt her cheeks flare with heat. ‘Sarah Fairfax, wash your mouth out! You shouldn’t know about such things at your age. Those mill girls that you work with have a lot to answer for…’
‘Well you can’t say anything! Your best mate is Daisy Truelove and she’s the talk where I work at Hunslet Mill – her and my boss, Tom. We all know what they get up to in the weaving sheds at dinner time and it isn’t tiddlywinks.’ Sarah sat back and looked at her sister. ‘Shouldn’t one of us wake Mother? She’ll not sleep tonight if we don’t, and you know what that means? Neither of us will sleep, either!’ Sarah sighed.
Meg tried not to let her irritation seep through. Sarah thought only of herself and that was her way. ‘No, let’s leave her be. She’s exhausted. Probably from keeping us up all night reminiscing about the past. If she can’t sleep and we don’t get much sleep, it’s not much to ask of us at the end of her days,’ Meg said as she stirred the pot of broth and checked if the barley was softening. ’Frankie brought her some stronger laudanum tincture this afternoon. It seems to be giving her the comfort she needed.’
