The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

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      ‘Daft bugger. What d’yer think? Same as you, Jericho, old son.’

      ‘Oh? So who’m you with?’

      Tweedle mumbled to his unseen companion. ‘What did you say your name was, love?’

      ‘Eliza,’ a little voice replied.

      ‘I’m with somebody called Eliza, Jericho.’

      Jericho realised there was a glimmer of hope. ‘I take it as you want me to keep me trap shut, eh?’

      ‘It’d be as well.’

      ‘Then you’d better keep yours shut about me and Minnie Catchpole.’

      Tweedle Beak grunted. ‘Well, I ain’t sid yer in here, have I, you dirty bloody ram? Not in this darkness.’

      ‘Then I ain’t seen you neither, Tweedle.’

      Minnie and Jericho stood up, and Minnie felt round for her rug in the blackness while he hitched up his trousers and fastened his fly buttons. She found the rug and rolled it up, felt for Jericho, and held his arm as they made their way back to the tunnel’s mouth, followed close behind by Tweedle Beak and the woman he had picked up from one of the local public houses.

      Two minutes later, Buttercup left the tunnel. He had entered it earlier with a lantern to inspect the standard of workmanship required by Treadwell’s. When he saw two other people about to enter, he blew out his light and waited patiently while they got on with what they had come for. When another couple entered and revealed their identities, his interest intensified. When they made their exit, he followed them unseen to the edge of the encampment, where they all went their silent, separate ways …

      Next morning, after a fitful night’s sleep, Poppy awoke to the sound of her mother vomiting into the jerry that lurked under her bed.

      ‘What’s up wi’ thee, wench?’ Tweedle muttered from under the blanket.

      ‘Something I ate,’ Sheba replied economically, and heaved again into the jerry that she held in her lap as she sat on the bed.

      ‘Well, mek sure as yo’ doh ate it again. What time is it?’

      ‘Time to get up, I reckon.’ She put down the pot and wiped her mouth with the hem of her cotton nightgown. As she stood up and stretched, she ran her fingers through her long hair. Poppy peered over her bedclothes watching her mother, wondering how much she was pining for Lightning Jack. She knew her mother’s expressions; they were a signal of her innermost feelings, and thus she could read her anguish. If only Jack were here; he would be proud as punch to know she was carrying another child.

      The rest of the household began to stir. The dog belonging to one of the navvies in the next room yapped at being disturbed, and a disgruntled voice suggested the animal must be hankering for a kick up the bollocks. Tweedle Beak rose from his side of the bed and scratched first his beard and then his backside before a succession of ripping farts diminished all other sounds to incidental background noise. Poppy judiciously held her blanket to her nose and waited till Tweedle got dressed and was gone before she ventured out of bed. She washed and dressed and brushed her teeth, a habit she had acquired some time ago when she realised that such things as toothbrushes and tooth cleaning powder were available at modest cost and made your breath smell sweet. (She had been grateful for it when the opportunity to kiss Robert Crawford had presented itself.) That done, she took out the jerry, holding her breath while she carried it outside to the midden heap.

      Poppy wished to contrive another casual meeting with Robert Crawford when she had finished her jobs. She wanted to thank him for his note and for his kind consideration. So, when the time was appropriate, she tied on her bonnet, took off her apron and stepped outside into the warm midday sunshine. The area around the encampment was quiet now that the workings were concentrated towards Netherton and Pensnett. Poppy did not know that Robert Crawford was once more also contriving to meet her. They coincided close to where they had met the last time.

      ‘Oh, Poppy, I’m so glad I’ve seen you—’

      ‘Thank you for your note, Robert. It was very thoughtful.’

      ‘You were able to read it?’

      ‘Oh, yes. It was kind of you to send it.’

      ‘But I want to tell you face to face how sorry I am to hear of your father’s death. You must be distraught.’

      ‘I don’t know about that, Robert, but it’s upset me a lot. I thought the world of my dad.’

      ‘I distinctly gained that impression. And how is your mother?’

      She shook her head and tears glimmered in her blue eyes. ‘My mother misses him as well … We all do.’ She did not want to expand on her mother’s situation. He might know about her and Tweedle Beak already for all she knew, but just in case he did not, she had no desire to mention it.

      ‘Please pass on to your mother my sincerest condolences, Poppy. He was a good man, your father. Hard working, decent, down-to-earth. Very likeable. I’m sure all his workmates will miss him.’

      Poppy broke down in a flood of tears. ‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ she blubbered, taking a rag from the pocket of her skirt and drying her eyes. ‘I can’t help crying over him. I can’t believe that I’ll never see him again. I keep thinking any minute he’ll come walking round the corner with his pickaxe and shovel over his shoulder. If only I’d known what was going to happen to him when he left us, I’d have stopped him going somehow.’

      ‘You could never have known, Poppy,’ Robert said gently and drew her to him consolingly. ‘It’s not your fault that he’s dead, and you mustn’t blame yourself …’

      Poppy leaned her head against his chest and sobbed. It was so good to feel his arms about her again. Maybe this was all she needed – to be in Robert’s arms. Maybe it was Robert she was really grieving for. But how could she tell when her emotions were so agonised? It was difficult to separate them. Was the grief she felt for Lightning Jack any more acute than that which she felt over losing Robert, however brief their affair? But being back in Robert’s embrace only made her weep the more. No doubt he would think her a complete fool.

      Robert looked over his shoulder to see if they were being watched and self-consciously, but reluctantly, let go of her. ‘Listen, Poppy, walk with me a little way. Talk about your father all you want. My own father always reckons that talking about your problems with somebody lessens them, and I’m certain it’s true.’

      She nodded tearfully, content to walk at his side. Rather than walk towards the town, they ambled down the path towards Netherton.

      ‘So,’ Robert said. ‘Tell me more about Lightning Jack.’

      Poppy wiped her eyes and sighed profoundly. ‘What is there to tell? He was a good man at heart. You said so yourself. He cared for us, his children. He cared for my mother in his way, although he drank like a fish and would spend most of his money on drink when he got paid.’

      ‘In that, he was no different to any of the others,’ Robert suggested. ‘But I sense he was more considerate than most.’

      ‘He was,’ she agreed. ‘He was a decent man although СКАЧАТЬ