The Emma Harte 7-Book Collection: A Woman of Substance, Hold the Dream, To Be the Best, Emma’s Secret, Unexpected Blessings, Just Rewards, Breaking the Rules. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
healthy and well cared for, and as immaculately groomed as always.
The tram rumbled out of the city centre, heading for Whingate Junction in Armley, a picturesque village perched on a hill, about half an hour’s ride away. Blackie sat lost in contemplation, patiently waiting for Emma’s mood to change, praying that it would do so before they reached their destination. He would be glad when the baby was born and she could visit Fairley. Although she accepted her pregnancy philosophically and with little visible show of anxiety, Blackie knew she worried excessively about her father and Frank. She had even pressed him into service with the mailing of those all-important letters to her dad, badgering him to seek out any of his friends, who might be going to London. She was determined to keep up the pretence that she was travelling with her non-existent Mrs John Smith, which readily explained her absence from Bradford. As luck would have it, he had been able to oblige her in November and December, when some of his mates from the pub were going south to find work on London’s East End docks. They had willingly agreed to post Emma’s letters to her father, without asking any embarrassing questions. Blackie had commented to Emma, though. ‘Ye dad will be wondering why ye don’t give him an address, so he’s can write to ye,’ he had pointed out. ‘No, he won’t,’ Emma had asserted sharply. ‘In the November letter I told him I was going to Paris with my lady, and in the December letter I told him I was accompanying her to Italy. As long as he hears from me, that’s all that matters.’ Blackie eyed her, utterly astonished at the machinations of her mind. ‘It seems ye’ve thought of everything,’ he said dryly. To this remark she had not deigned to respond and the conversation had been terminated.
Blackie stole another look at her, moved closer, and put his arm around her shoulders, easing himself up to her on the seat. ‘I hope ye’ll consider moving to Armley,’ he said carefully, steeling himself for her strong reaction, which, surprisingly, was not forthcoming. She remained perfectly still, her face staring ahead.
Encouraged, Blackie went on, ‘Ye’ll be happier living with Laura Spencer. Sure and ye will, mavourneen. Now that her widowed mother is dead she is looking for a paying guest, someone to share the expense of the house with her. A nice house it is, too. Small, of course, but cosy and well set up. Her late father was a foreman at the printing works, and her mother was a weaver. They had a bit of money and a decent going-on. It shows in the house, the furnishings and all, and Laura keeps it beautifully.’ He paused and searched her face, proceeding in a cheery tone, ‘Ye’ll be real comfortable there. And as I told ye afore, Laura can get ye a job at Thompson’s mill in Armley, where she works. I don’t know why ye are being so stubborn about it, Emma.’
She swung her head unexpectedly and looked at him intensely, her green eyes flashing. ‘Because I don’t like being uprooted! I’ve just learned the tailoring trade and now you want me to leave Kallinski’s and start working at the mill, learning to weave. It doesn’t make sense, Blackie. And besides, I like it at Mrs Daniel’s. She is very kindly these days and I do have the use of her kitchen.’
Blackie groaned. ‘But, Emma, ye’ll be having a whole house to share with Laura. Not only that, she lives just ten minutes away from Thompson’s mill. At present ye spend three quarters of an hour walking to Kallinski’s in the morning and the same amount of time to be getting home at night. It’s a lot of walking in this raw weather. Even the Kallinskis see the sense of what I be suggesting, and David told me the other day that they will be happy to take ye back, after the bairn is born. So what do you have to lose? Nothing, I am thinking.’ He sighed wearily. ‘Ye are a wilful, headstrong girl, Emma, and all I am wanting is what’s best for ye.’
Emma recognized the practicality of what he was suggesting, but for once in her life she was indecisive. ‘I just don’t know—’
Blackie now saw that wavering and he grabbed the opportunity, saying in a positive tone, ‘Look, all I be asking is that ye consider it carefully, and that ye weigh all the odds before ye make a hasty decision not to move in with Laura.’ He took hold of her sturdy hand and squeezed it. ‘And please be nice with Laura. She’s a good friend and I don’t want ye to be acting rude or stuck-up.’
Emma flushed and glared at him. ‘Rude! I’m never rude to anyone! You know better than that. And I’m not stuck-up either, Blackie O’Neill.’
He realized his mistake too late and, hoping to rectify it, Blackie said in the suavest of voices, ‘I know ye don’t mean to be snooty, Emma, me darlin’. But sometimes – well, sometimes ye do give the impression of being – let’s say, a bit hoity-toity.’
‘I do?’ she said wonderingly, frowning and biting her lip. Emma was flabbergasted at this statement, for she truly did not know she could be formidable at times. Invariably her distant manner was engendered by her total preoccupation with her problems and her numerous plans, and nothing else. She remained silent, ruminating on what he had said, feeling mortified.
Sensing that she might be hurt, Blackie remarked gently, ‘Ye’ll be liking Laura. She’s a sweet girl, that she is indeed. And I know she will be liking ye, Emma. Sure and she will, mavourneen.’
‘I’m not so sure about that, in view of what you’ve just said,’ Emma countered.
Blackie laughed a little shamefacedly. ‘Now let’s be forgetting that. All ye have to be doing is exercise a bit of that remarkable charm ye be possessing in such abundance, and everything will be fine.’ He squeezed her hand again and went on, ‘Armley is a grand little spot and very safe. ’Tis especially pretty in summer when the trees and flowers are blooming. There’s Armley Park where the brass band plays every Sunday and other pleasant lanes and thoroughfares where ye can be taking a stroll. Also, St Mary’s Hospital is nearby, and ye could be having the bairn there, when ye time comes. And there are plenty of shops, so ye won’t be having to venture into Leeds for owt. Why, ye have everything ye be needing in Armley.’
Emma looked at him alertly. ‘Shops,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But I thought Armley was a tiny village. There can’t be that many shops, Blackie.’
‘Oh, aye, there are, mavourneen. Ye see, Armley is spread out, so to speak. It be quite large really. There are a lot of fine homes. Mansions, in fact, where the posh folk live. Millowners and the like. There are a number of good shops in Town Street catering to the Quality trade. I’ve seen ’em, when I’ve been visiting Laura afore. Ye’ll have a chance to look at ’em yeself, when we walk down the main street to get to Laura’s house.’
‘What sort of shops?’ Emma pressed, her eyes turned on him with fierce interest.
Aware that he had now captured her complete attention and observing the change in her attitude, Blackie spoke excitedly, hoping to sway her further. ‘Well, let me be thinking. There be grocers, butchers, and greengrocers, all on Town Street, along with a pork butcher’s shop, an off-licence, a fishmonger’s, Keene’s dairy, a chemist, and a newsagent. I’ve also noticed a draper’s, a haberdasher’s, a shoe store, and a fine ladies’ dress establishment as well, mavourneen. It is quite an active thoroughfare, almost as busy as Briggate, indeed it is. Why, I think there are shops selling practically everything, Emma.’
Emma had listened carefully and she was rapidly reversing her preconceived ideas about sharing Laura Spencer’s house. ‘Tell me more about the village,’ she said. ‘For instance, how big is it? How many people live there?’
‘Ah, Emma, me love, now ye have me. I must be confessing I don’t know its exact size, or how many people reside in Armley. But it must be a goodly number, I am thinking, for the shops do a brisk business. Then again, there are several churches and chapels and quite a few schools, so there must be plenty of folk in the vicinity. Yes, it is a thriving place, sure and it is. Laura told me there is a public library and Liberal, Conservative, and Workingmen’s clubs. Why, there is even a jail in Armley. Horrible dungeon of a place, it is, by the looks of it.’ Blackie winked at her. ‘There are lots of pubs, too. I meself know at least six personally.’
Emma laughed for the first time since they had set out. ‘You would know that.’
‘And what’s wrong with a young