To St Peter’s Fields

Reverend Simmons had come to deliver some bad news to Mary . . .

WHAT are you doing out of bed?” Mary bustled over to Gabriel as his tousled head appeared round the door at the foot of the stairs.

He grinned.

“I’m all right. Mrs Bell’s muscle rub is a miracle cure. I’m bored stuck upstairs.”

“Here, sit down.” She caught his arm and helped him towards her stool.

“No, thank you. I’m going next door to see William.” He disentangled himself from her and furniturewalked towards the door. “I’ll get weak lying down all day.”

Mary walked behind him, arms out, waiting to catch him if he fell. At the door, she handed him a wooden stick from a container which stood outside.

“Use this at least.” “Thank you.” He took it and hobbled towards his father’s butcher’s shop.

“As determined as his father, that one.” The voice behind her spoke her thoughts.

Mary turned and looked into the face of the doctor.

“I came to visit my patient, but I see another fee gone. I presume I have Mrs Bell to thank?”

Mary nodded and the doctor sighed.

“She’s throwing away a fortune, that woman. You know where I am if you need me, Mrs Andrew.”

He doffed his hat and walked on.

Robert had never had porridge before Tuesday, but had quickly come to despise it. It was just as well he was used to going without breakfast.

He wondered what lunch would be today. It was ham yesterday. He liked ham. That was his favourite.

He tried not to think about what happened on Wednesday, the adults in the graveyard, heads bowed as Reverend Simmons said a few words for Mother.

Now she was in the earth, her spirit gone to heaven, and that was that. There was no point getting upset

about it – he learned that quickly enough.

They hadn’t let him see her at the end. They said she was too ill; that he’d upset her. What about upsetting him? Didn’t that matter?

He pushed the soggy mess around his bowl and raised a few mouthfuls to his lips to avoid the wrath of the master before swapping bowls with Freddie, who sat next to him.

Freddie liked porridge. Freddie liked everything.

He liked Freddie. Freddie hadn’t teased him when he’d cried over Mother.

Freddie told him they had cake on Sunday. Sunday was Mrs Andrew’s day off. She still had his money. Maybe she would come and bring some plums from her tree. If she didn’t, nobody else would.

Robert felt a lump come to his throat and washed it away with a gulp of tea.

The week continued unusually warm and dry. Mrs Bell’s muscle rub worked so well that Gabriel was soon spending time chatting to customers and minding the counter while Mary took lunch upstairs or ran the odd errand.

On Sunday he accompanied Mary and his brothers to church. It was packed for a service dedicated to those injured and killed at St Peter’s Fields.

Reverend Simmons read out the names of the dead and the injured to the hushed congregation. As they bowed their heads in silent prayer, William turned to Mary.

“You’d think he’d mention Father,” he whispered.

Mary thought the vicar had several good reasons for not mentioning Daniel, leastwise avoiding public support for a fugitive. She squeezed William’s hand. “We will pray for him.” “Now,” the vicar went on, “we pray that Almighty God will receive into his holy Kingdom those parishioners who have died.”

Of these new names, one stilled Mary’s heart – Sarah Ogden.

“Mrs Andrew?” William murmured. “You’ve gone pale.”

She managed a smile. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. She hadn’t heard about Sarah. She hadn’t known that Robert was alone at the workhouse, and that he was without a mother, just as she was without a son.

After the service Mary sent the boys with their aunt and uncle while she stayed behind to speak to the vicar.

“Mary, my dear. You look wan. You take far too much work upon yourself,” Reverend Simmons said.

“It’s not work that ails me, but Sarah Ogden’s death,” she replied. “I worry for Robert.”

“You need not fret. He’s well cared for.”

“But I do fret. I can give him a good, loving home.”

“Can you? With four boys to look after already?” He glanced after the Lawtons. “And after their father made a disgraceful public display last Monday.”

Mary felt her temper rising and she struggled to control her voice.

“I wouldn’t describe Mr Lawton leading a band of peaceful marchers as disgraceful. It was noble.”

“I was referring to his behaviour towards you in the street in broad daylight.”

Mary had forgotten about the very public kiss with the events that had followed, and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. Somebody other than William had noticed after all.

“I’d hardly call that noble,” the vicar went on. “Lewd is more appropriate.”

Mary decided to ignore what she could not deny and what she did not intend to discuss. She drew herself to her full height.

“One of Mr Lawton’s sons is recuperating in my spare bedroom as an act of Christian charity while awaiting his father’s return. I am not looking after all four sons.”

“You do not deny that Mr Lawton is still at large? Hiding from the law like some common criminal?”

How could she? The vicar continued.

“It seems to me that his principles have put the very integrity of his family at stake. And in doing so he is taking advantage of the charity of neighbours.”

If there was one thing Daniel had never done it was take advantage of anything Mary had to offer. All he ever wanted to do was help and offer his love. Anger rose within her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking.

“I do not know where Daniel is. I do know he has done no wrong. His name will be cleared.

“What I ask concerns only Robert. I know you have influence in such cases. I believe it is not solely the decision of the master of the workhouse when it comes to placement.”

Reverend Simmons looked at her coldly.

“Your faith in Mr Lawton is laudable if misplaced,” he replied. “Your understanding of affairs at the workhouse, however, is correct.”

“I wish to take in Robert,” Mary said firmly. “He is bright and helpful in the shop.”

“He is a ragamuffin, almost wild. He needs moral guidance. I am inclined to seek a married couple with a traditional, shall we say, morally upstanding father figure.” Reverend Simmons sneered.

“One who neither challenges the authorities nor hides from them. One not given to inappropriate public displays of affection towards women who appear to think nothing of accepting them.”

He paused for effect. “Of course, I’m sure the committee would have no concerns releasing a child such as he to a clergyman and his wife.”

It was a mile to the workhouse – a long stone building in the lee of a low ridge on the other side of the valley.

Behind was a series of outbuildings, and to the side was the vegetable garden, now lush with potatoes, peas and beans.

Mary was hot and sweating by the time she reached it in a searing noon sun, but the swift march had at least dispelled some of her fury.

When he saw her, Robert’s face broke into a smile and he threw himself at her skirts.

“Mrs Andrew, I knew you’d come.”

Mary let him hug her for a while then peeled him away and held him at arm’s length. He was undoubtedly filling out.

“Let me look at you. Are they feeding you well?”

“Yes, Mrs Andrew. I get three meals a day except on porridge days. I don’t like porridge; I like ham. We get that on Wednesday.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. And apart from the food?”

“In the morning we have lessons. I’m learning to write,” he said proudly.

“Are you indeed?” Mary laughed at the boy’s enthusiasm.

“In the afternoon I help in the garden. Because I’m little I’m good at weeding. Mr Jones the gardener says my fingers are the right size for picking out the weeds.” Mary smiled.

“Well, it seems that this is a home from home. It sounds like you’re very happy here.”

His face changed. “Oh, but it’s not home, Mrs Andrew. Mother’s not here any more.” His lower lip started to wobble and a film spread over his eyes.

“I know,” she replied, smoothing his hair.

“And sometimes the big boys sit on me at night in the bedroom,” he added.

Now that she looked closely, that mark on his cheek which she had assumed was dirt looked more like a bruise.

“Bobbie, if I can arrange it, would you like to come home with me?”

“His principles have put the very integrity of his family at stake”

Robert bounced up off the floor and attached himself to her skirts in a limpet-like clasp once more.

“Yes, Mrs Andrew. I would. I’d be really useful. I would sweep your floors and clean your shelves and –”

“You don’t need to work all the time, Bobbie.” Mary’s lips pursed as she thought of the task ahead. She rested her hand on his head. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

The master was a thin, weak-faced man named Appleby. He received Mary in his relatively austere office, her heels clicking on the wooden floors as a servant led her to a seat on the other side of his small wooden desk.

“If it were my decision, Mrs Andrew, I would give you the boy. He’s too small for most and we’ve enough of a drag on the parish purse.

“But Reverend Simmons spoke to me about this matter. He believes the boy needs strong guidance.”

Mary’s hopes began to fade as Appleby continued.

“He wants a married couple, or at least the boy’s father, who is either unknown or simply absent. Then we might recoup the cost of his upkeep.”

Mary felt her hands ball into fists.

“With little but porridge he won’t eat and bread and butter, he can’t cost much! Are you aware he is being bullied? What are you doing about that, Mr Appleby?”

The man shrugged.

“A bit of rough and tumble is natural. It’s part of growing up. He’ll get used to it. Now, if there’s nothing else?” he added with a hopeful rise to his voice.

The journey back to Pickford had been by a tortuous route, along quiet lanes and by towns and villages where he was not known.

Daniel purchased a new cap to keep his coppery head covered, and now, as the light at the end of a hot August day was fading, he hopped over the wall into Mary Andrew’s garden.

Most folk would be abed already, resting before another early start. Hopefully no-one would have seen him enter the village through fields of long grass.

He wasn’t sure what reception he’d get. Had she had any word of him since what was being called the Peterloo massacre? Would she speak to him after all the warnings she had given before the march?

He had to try to speak to her. He couldn’t bear to be away any longer. And he had to see Gabriel, to see for himself that he was well. The sight of him going down under that horse haunted his dreams.

He tapped at the back door and paused before trying the handle. It was locked as he had expected.

After a few moments, a nervous voice called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Daniel.”

He heard a small gasp and the scrape of bolts being thrown back.

The door flew open and he slipped inside, pulling down his collar as he did so.

Mary threw herself on him with such force that he staggered back against the door, which shut with a bang.

“Thank goodness!” she cried into his neck.

He let his weight rest against the wood, put his arms around her waist and felt the worries of the past week and the anxieties of the anticipated meeting melt away.

“That’s a welcome fit for a king, right enough, Mary.”

She lifted her face to his and saw his startled expression.

“A king! What airs and graces you give yourself. A vagabond, more like.” But she didn’t pull away.

A door opened at the top of the stairs. “Father?” Gabriel’s face was just visible in the gloom. Daniel dropped his arms and Mary stepped back, pulling her night jacket tight about her.

“Go,” she said. “I’ll have wine waiting in the parlour.”

Daniel took the stairs two at a time. Gabriel looked well. His son showed him his bruised leg and his head, both of which were healing fast, and father and son exchanged snippets of news. William was managing well in the shop and had suffered no injury.

Greatly reassured, Daniel retreated downstairs.

“It’s late. I hadn’t expected you still to be awake,” he admitted, accepting the glass Mary offered and sinking into her best armchair.

Mary looked pale and tired.

“I have barely slept since it happened. I’ve been so worried, not knowing if you were alive or dead, taken or a fugitive. And other things have happened as well.”

“I’m sorry, Mary. For the first day or two I wasn’t aware of much other than a fearful pain in my head. Like Gabriel, I was felled by a horse, kicked insensible.

“Someone dragged me from the field. Fortunately, the rider was more concerned with taking the banner for evidence than taking me. Friends,” he said carefully, not wanting to implicate anyone, “took me to safety.

“It was a few days before I came to my senses. I got word to my sister when I was able. Did she not tell you?”

Mary shook her head. “It was probably for the best. With so many people in my shop quizzing me, I might not have been able to keep your secret.”

She leaned forward and caught his hand in hers. It was warm and firm and caused a surge of pressure in his chest.

Her eyes blazed just as strongly now as they had in the days before the march, but with a different light.

“You were doing what you felt was right, Daniel. And it was right. Someone had to make a stand. But we must concentrate now on what can be done for you. Can you stay out of jail?” she asked. Daniel shrugged.

“I hope so. I need to build an argument. I don’t quite know how, but I think there might be a way.

“Tell me news from the village.” He changed the subject. “I’ve had enough worry for one week. I want to think about something else.”

He rested his head on the back of the chair, mindful of the bruise still healing, while he listened to the story of Sarah and Robert Ogden, and about the refusal to let her take the boy from the workhouse.

He noted the tears in Mary’s eyes as she finished.

“You’re very attached to that young lad, aren’t you?”

“I feel like I’ve lost Joshua all over again. I thought I’d lost two people this week. You and Bobbie.”

Mary’s hands flew to her face as the sobs came. Daniel fell to his knees, took her arms and leaned her against his shoulder.

“Hush,” he said. “I’m not gone. I’m here.”

“For how long, Daniel? You can’t hide for ever.”

Mary’s arms snaked round his neck and they pulled each other close. He winced with pain and felt her pull away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes dropping to his chest.

“A bruised rib, nothing of consequence. Nothing to stop me holding you.” He pulled her close again and this time there was no pain.

She was soft and warm against him and it felt good.

They held each other for a long time, sharing the same silence. Daniel remembered what it was to feel whole again, to be loved and to love in return.

This moment reminded him as much as any that his family needed him and that he needed Mary.

It had been obvious in the few minutes he’d spent with Gabriel that his son had no physical need to remain in Mary’s house. He could have returned home days ago.

“Mrs Andrew needs me, Father,” Gabriel had said with pink cheeks.

As much as Gabriel needs Mary, Daniel thought. The boy needed parents; a mother as much as a father. They all needed each other. Robert needed a family most of all. Their fates were linked.

He understood now why Mary had withdrawn from him in the last weeks, why she worried about losing him, and why she had been trying to dissuade him from leading the march. She had known better than he what was at stake. He eased away from her. “Robert’s plight has reminded me of something. I think I have a solution. I can get him out of the workhouse and clear my name. Then we can be married. Would you like that, Mary?”

Mary let out a cry of surprise.

“You know I want nothing more. Do you mean what you say? Can it be done?”

Daniel wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumbs and nodded.

“I believe so. I have a few things to do first, then I can hand myself in.”

Mary caught his hand, turned it and kissed his palm.

Mary awoke with a song in her heart. Daniel had a plan. He would be exonerated. They would be married and Robert would be theirs.

Her customers that morning commented on how happy she seemed and the mood lasted until her weekly visit from Ernie, the tea and coffee merchant.

He, she noted, was not his usual self.

“What’s wrong, Ernie? Where’s your smile today?”

“Haven’t you heard the news, Mary?”

“What news?” “Daniel. They’ve got him.” Mary stilled.

“Got him? What do you mean?”

“The law. He was seen leaving Pickford in the early hours and got picked up before he reached Oldham. Not that you’d know anything about that, would you?” he added, glancing for the first time at her order.

Mary’s head started to swim. She sat on her stool before she fell down.

That wasn’t the plan at all. Daniel had things to do. Being arrested would prevent that.

Ernie looked up from the list again.

“It won’t go well that he’s been on the run all this time, I reckon.”

Mary was aware Ernie was still talking, but she was no longer listening. All she could think of was that, with Daniel taken, their plans would fall apart.

Daniel would go to jail, Robert would stay in the workhouse and her only prospect of getting him out was to marry Reverend Simmons.

“Excuse me,” she said and flew next door, where William was serving and Gabriel was sitting down chatting merrily.

“Your father’s been arrested,” she said. “Quickly, one of you go to your aunt’s. Your uncle must go to his aid.”

William and Gabriel’s faces blanched and the customer’s jaw dropped.

Gabriel drew himself upright.

“I’ll go.”

“Can you make it that far?”

It was a good half mile along rutted lanes and Mary’s gaze dropped to his injured leg.

“For Father? I’d make it to Manchester and back.” He left the shop faster than she’d seen him move all week.

William put a hand on her arm.

“He’ll be fine, Mrs Andrew.”

Yes, Gabriel would be, she was sure. But what about Daniel?

In the ensuing days, Daniel’s sister came to the shop to support William.

Gabriel sat on Mary’s stool and defended her from anyone who tried to gossip or say anything derogatory about his father.

People quickly understood that in Pickford General Stores the subject of Daniel Lawton was taboo.

Every evening, William helped Mary bring in her outside goods before they shared a simple supper and discussed news of his father brought by his aunt.

“At least they’ve kept him in Manchester. Most agitators were sent to Lancaster. My uncle spends all day visiting people and writing letters to family members trying to find out who Robert’s father is.

“My aunt says Father has to get himself out of jail and can’t understand why he’s so worried about Robert.”

Mary knew it was her fault, but said nothing.

“She says if it means that much to him,” William went on between mouthfuls of stew, “they would take the boy themselves.”

Mary’s hopes almost soared at these words.

“We could hardly expect that,” she admitted sadly. “They’ve got four children of their own, haven’t they?” “Five.”

And if Daniel’s defence was unsuccessful, they’d soon have another four on their hands.

The first night, after supper, William repaired to Gabriel’s room to talk with him further.

When Mary peeped in on them, she found the brothers fast asleep side by side on the single bed. And so they spent every night after that.

William needed his family. It was touching that they wanted to stay in her home. Perhaps they felt the absence of their father less here.

On Thursday, Reverend Simmons came to settle his bill.

“I hear he’s being transferred to Lancaster.” Gabriel glared at him. “Do you mean my father?”

“Gabriel, hush,” Mary cut in. “Go next door.”

She saw his mouth open to argue, his eyes black with anger, but silenced him with a look. He slipped off the stool and left the shop.

Reverend Simmons did not watch him go.

“You are looking after two of his sons now, Mary.”

“They choose to sleep here. My home feels safe until their father returns. Which he will.”

The vicar counted out money to the value of the bill Mary had placed in front of him.

“Your faith does you credit. A shame it is so misplaced. The authorities will prosecute Mr Lawton for sedition. That’s a long time for an orphan boy to be alone in the workhouse.

“My offer will not remain open, Mary. Be careful you do not leave it too late.” With that, he turned and left.

Mary didn’t know whether to feel anger or despair.

Seized with restlessness, she closed the shop early and, leaving the boys to eat by themselves, took the road out of the village towards the head of the valley.

At first she walked aimlessly, simply burning off restless energy, but before long she realised that where she was going was the workhouse.

She needed to see Robert to ask him about his father. Perhaps he knew something useful.

She arrived at its wooden door at around eight. The noise made by the great cast-iron knocker thundered and echoed along stark corridors. A parliament of rooks, startled by the sound, rose cackling into the air.

“I wish to see Robert Ogden,” she announced to the servant who responded.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“I don’t care! Take me to Mr Appleby.” Mary was shocked at the force of her own words, but the servant opened the door and let Mary in.

Two minutes later she was sitting in front of the master’s desk.

“Mrs Andrew,” he said. “You cannot see Robert Ogden.”

“Why not?”

“He is not here.” “Not . . .?” Mary could not finish the sentence.

“The boy’s grandfather came and claimed him. He is not here.”

“Who is this grandfather?” “I am not at liberty to say.”

“Where has he taken him?”

“Home, one assumes, but I am not at liberty to say where that is. The boy is with family. You should be happy for him.”

Yes, she should. But Mary was devastated for herself.

And where did this leave Daniel? He hadn’t shared all of his plans, but she knew they had involved Robert joining them as their child, and now he was gone to a stranger.

She ran from the workhouse and was halfway down the hill before she collapsed, sobbing, on to a rock at the side of the lane.

She lost track of time as she sat weeping. Robert was lost. She would probably never see him again.

Daniel was in jail 70 miles away. Who knew when she would see him again?

The light was fading fast. The day had been hot when she set out, but now that the sun had set, the air was chilling rapidly and she started to shiver.

She stood and started out for home. Gabriel and William needed her now more than ever.

Candles flickered in windows as she crossed the cobbles towards the Square.

The streets were empty bar a few men setting off home from the King’s Arms.

They called a greeting with beery breath as they passed. Mary paid them no heed. She was in no mood for merriment.

The Square was in shadow. As the horse trough came into view Mary stopped, for sitting upon it was the ghost of Joshua.

A boy, the age Joshua would be now, lost and alone, his head turned towards her as though awaiting her return. Their eyes met. Robert? It couldn’t be. Her heart restarted with a thud.

The boy jumped up and ran towards her.

“Mrs Andrew!” His small feet, for once enclosed in shoes, pumped on the cobbles. “We have been waiting ever so long.”

Suddenly he was attached to her skirts just as firmly as he had been the Sunday before. Not a ghost, but a real boy.

Someone must have brought him here. But who?

She looked towards her shop and saw three people, all with full heads of copper hair. Two sons, one father. The latter smiled and held out his arms in welcome. It was Daniel.

Now she really must be seeing things.

Robert tugged her forward.

“Come and see. Mr Lawton saved me. He’s going to be my father.”

Her feet no longer touched the ground. Soon he was hugging her, while Robert talked nonstop.

Once indoors, Daniel told his boys it was time to return home. First they were to put Robert to bed in Mary’s spare room.

Soon, Daniel and Mary were alone.

“You’re really here? Reverend Simmons said you were going to Lancaster. I thought . . .”

Daniel smiled.

“He was wrong. A judge decided otherwise. I came to Pickford with Robert’s grandfather. There were rumours about his father: a judge’s son who did not stand by Sarah. Having been abandoned, she was too proud to say anything.

“I found enough people willing to speak the truth and, when I met the judge, the family likeness was unmistakable.

“The case against me was not strong and we came to an understanding. He would dismiss the charges, do the right thing by Robert and no more would be said.”

“You’re free?” she asked, hardly daring to hope. He nodded.

“You won’t lead any more marches?” Daniel shook his head. “I still support reform, but I’ve learned my lesson. The authorities cannot be trusted and I have responsibilities. To you and my five sons.”

Mary’s hand flew to her heart. Five sons. He was including little Bobbie. Daniel took her hand. “Thank you for looking after Gabriel and William.” Mary blushed.

“I did hardly anything.” “You made them feel safe. That should have been my job, but now we do it together. As man and wife.”

The End.