A Contrary Wind

By Mollie Lyons

Set in 1870s Yorkshire it is the story of a young widow and her young stepson

When she is widowed, Caroline Flynn is forced to move to Stoops End,

the worst slum in the Yorkshire, West Riding town o

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookTrail Publishing
• Release date: Jan 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637670088

Mollie Lyons

Mollie Lyons is a retired ex nurse who lives very near the Bronte Country in West Yorkshire. She is originally from the county of Northumberalnd in the North East of England where she spent the early part of her life living on a remote sheep farm. Writing is one of her favourite hobbies and the wonderful views from her apartment serve to give her inspiration for her stories of Georgian and Victorian Yorkshire. She likes to depict not only romance in her stories but also the hard times that people of those times had to tolerate and how many overcame the difficulties by determination and hard work.She has one son who is a scientist and two grandchildren and they, along with her daughter in law, are the lights of her life.

Book preview

Chapter One

Fesley in the West Riding of Yorkshire November 1870.

The sound of the harsh Pennine wind, along with Ted Ackroyd’s voice, intruded into Danny Flynn’s uneasy sleep. Ted was the local knocker up and, no matter what the weather, half-past five every morning would find him tapping persistently upon the doors and windows of Canal Street. He used a long prop, which had a cluster of wires at its end, and he didn’t stop knocking until the irritated customer had acknowledged him and faced up to his twelve hour shift at Palmer’s Chemical Works.

Old Ted’s insistent cries and knocking continued down the street until he reached Danny’s door, then all that could be heard was a very gentle tap on the downstairs window and the door squeaking as, Caroline, his stepmother, opened it.

How is Michael this morning, Caroline? Ted’s voice drifted up through the wind and then Danny heard Caroline’s reply.

No better, Ted. I’m having the doctor this morning.

Danny jumped out of bed and clutching his shirt close to his shivering body, he trotted across the bare boards to look out of the window. The moon was still high in the sky, black clouds racing across it like fleeing spectres, and in its light he could see the top of old Ted’s hat and the thin wisps of hair sticking out from beneath it. Danny watched as the old man heaved a sigh then, shaking his head, walk back up the street toward his home.

The wind rattled the old sash window frame and heavy rain began to fall, crashing against the glass like a myriad of crystal beads. It must be what his dad called a contrary wind, Danny reasoned; one that dragged bad luck in its wake. With chattering teeth and a racing heart Danny ran back to his bed and flung himself into it. He pulled the worn blankets up around his chin and his feet groped around the bottom of the bed for the half brick that was wrapped in Caroline’s old shawl. Finally he found it, only to discover that it was cold. He lay staring at the sky through the window opposite, his heart thumping with fear and anxiety. Although only ten years old, he knew that the situation must be very serious or Caroline wouldn’t spend precious money on doctor’s bills. Caroline had sent him to bed early last night but he hadn’t realised that dad was so ill. He had been wheezing and coughing, but he had been doing that for a few weeks and made little of it.

It must be true what everyone said about Palmer’s, Danny thought. The older men called the works, The Graveyard. He had never given it much thought until dad had taken ill in September, then he started recalling other men in Palmer’s houses that had become chesty, and the next thing they were leaving the street in a hearse. It had always seemed sad when one of the neighbours died and then the family had to leave the house because they were for Palmer’s workers only. Danny knew that some of the families had ended up in Saint Mark’s, the workhouse, on the south side of Fesley and he found the thought of becoming an inmate there terrifying. If only dad had listened to Caroline instead of accusing her of nagging him.

You could go back to your old job delivering flour from Barker’s Mill, she would reason, If you were to do that, then I might get my old job at Arkwright’s bakery back and we could afford to rent a decent house in Blackstone.

Blackstone was on the north side of town. Danny had never been there, but he had heard Caroline talk about the rows of nice clean back to backs, with two rooms up and two rooms down and a small garden in front.

Four bob a week! Dad would protest, shaking his head so vigorously his black hair was whipped sideways, revealing his bald patch. What’s wrong with Canal Street? We only pay one and sixpence a week here because of my job. No woman. There’s only three of us and one up and one down is big enough.

The same argument had occurred every few weeks.

Michael Flynn, if you spent less time and money in the Cock and Bottle and on Pitch and Toss, we’d be well off, Caroline would remonstrate. We came here when we married because Palmer’s paid over the odds and you promised that we would save enough to move on within three or four years. And what is it now? Six years and not a penny nearer to bettering ourselves. Then she would carry on with her household duties clattering things about in exasperation.

Danny could visualise the scenes clearly as he lay beneath the covers in the cold bedroom. His feelings towards dad were very mixed. He was an easy-going man, but Caroline was right. He spent most of his wages in The Cock and Bottle and on gambling, so there was little brought home for the house and young as Danny was, he realised that his dad was neither a good husband nor a good father. Dad worked in the mixing shed with all the powdered chemicals and he claimed that beer drinking was necessary for health reasons. ‘Slaking the dust’, he called it, but Caroline insisted that he would be far healthier back in his old job out of doors and living in Blackstone and Danny couldn’t understand why water couldn’t do as good a job as beer.

It would be far better for the lad as well, she would point out, and Danny would nod in agreement.

Although Caroline was not his real mam, Danny loved her as if she were. She and dad had married when Danny was only four so he could scarcely remember a time without her and all he could recollect of his real mother was a shadowy figure who sang him Irish lullabies. Danny knew that he would never forget her completely, but Caroline had made an excellent substitute, and though, in his head, he thought of her as Caroline, he always called her mam. It was a great disappointment to Michael though, that his second wife had never produced any children.

However, there were compensations as far as Danny was concerned because he received all of his stepmother’s attention. He also realised that poor as they were now, they would be an awful lot poorer with more mouths to feed. In just over a year and a half he would be old enough to work half time in the mills, Danny consoled himself, and then he would be able to help Caroline out by contributing his earnings. As he lay thinking things over his thin frame warmed under the blankets. Fearful thoughts about dad and the workhouse drifted away and he fell into a second, and deeper, sleep.

The wind had dropped by the time Danny set off for school and he took the shortcut along the canal towpath. Although the sun was shining from a clear, blue sky, the air was cold and it chilled Danny to the bone. He’d been forced to dress in the cold bedroom instead of by the warmth of the fire downstairs because old Martha Kelly had come early in order to help Caroline before the doctor arrived.

As he passed Palmer’s works he shuddered. It looked very ominous to him now with its belching chimneys, which rose like great black fingers toward the sky. Some of the men, who lived in Canal Street, were hard at work loading a barge on the wharf. Danny noticed the peculiar yellow tinge in their skin and hair. Just like his dad had always been. He thought how strange it was that he had never seen anything sinister in that, until now. The childish belief that that his dad was immortal was no longer with him.

How’s your dad today? one of the men called out.

The doctor’s coming this morning. Danny saw the concern that was etched into the man’s face.

Ah well, he’ll soon put him to rights, lad, don’t thee fret now, the man said before turning to look at his workmates, who all nodded their heads in supposed agreement.

Danny knew that they were not only trying to reassure him, but themselves as well. He realised that it was going to be difficult at school because he couldn’t see how he was going to be able to concentrate on his lessons. One part of him wanted to be at home where he would know how dad was faring, but the other part wanted to be away, not able to see the struggle for breath, or to hear the horrible rattle in dad’s throat. He averted his eyes from the men on the wharf and hurried on along the path, past the back of all the mills and factories that dominated that part of Fesley. He turned left up Morley Street where the bone yard stood and wrinkled his nose as he walked by. Even in the cold of November a terrible stench hung all around the place. He was thankful when he turned right onto North Bank and the long ascent to Reid’s School at the top.

Various classmates approached Danny when he entered the school yard, all of them asking about his father and all he could think of to tell them was, Doctor’s coming this morning. He walked away from them not wishing to be engaged in any kind of conversation or games. He went right to the other side of the yard where he could lean over the low stone wall and see the whole of Fesley stretching out before him. The town centre sat snugly in the valley ringed by its many industries and houses, which were perched on the hills that rose up on three sides. He looked to the east and could see the grey rooftops of Canal Street and Wharf Street, a solitary row of back-to-back houses sitting like an outcast amid the factories and mills.

The ringing of the bell caused Danny to jump, and turning, he ran to join the other children filing into school to begin their lessons. The morning dragged by for him and he scarcely heard a word that his teacher, Miss Fairfax, said. All he could think about was what would become of him and Caroline if dad went? He stared absently through the glass partition dividing the classrooms from the corridor and felt a trickle of horror travel down his spine when he spotted the scarecrow figure of Martha Kelly shuffling toward the classroom door.

Miss Fairfax broke off from the lesson and went full of concern into the corridor. Danny watched them converse and saw the distaste on Miss Fairfax’s face as Martha moved close up to her. The teacher stepped quickly back and then, opening the classroom door, she beckoned Danny outside. With his heart pounding in his ears, he obeyed and, as he made his exit, he was aware of the inquisitive glances of his classmates. He stood trembling before the two women his brown eyes filled with dread.

You’re to go home with Mrs Kelly now. The teacher’s tone was sympathetic.

My dad… Is he? Danny found himself unable to ask the question, yet he desperately wanted one of the women to answer. He looked from one to the other and wished that his legs would stop shaking because they would never carry him home trembling as they were.

Martha placed a hand on his shoulder. Thee run on and never mind about me son. Thy legs are younger than mine.

Me dad… Me dad! Danny’s face showed both frustration and fear. I want to know about me dad!"

Miss Fairfax grabbed his hands and held them gently in her own. There was softness in her usually severe expression. Your father is asking for you, Danny. You must run. There is no time to waste.

He didn’t wait to hear any more. His legs bounced him out of school and down the hill, never once did he slow down until he turned the corner into Canal Street. Slowly, quietly and with trepidation, he entered the living room of number ten. The first thing he noticed was the silence, no wheezing, and no rattles to be heard. Danny felt as though his heart was sinking into the pit of his stomach. He looked across to the big bed in the fireside alcove where Caroline stood, her hands clutching the bottom bed rail. She turned her sorrowful gaze on Danny and shook her head. He was too late.

Chapter Two

The week following Michael’s funeral Palmer’s sent Jake Holroyd, their agent, to inform Caroline that the time had come when she must start to look for somewhere else to live. It was a freezing cold evening during the first week of December when he knocked on the door of number ten Canal Street. Caroline admitted Holroyd into the living room where Danny was sitting at the table enjoying a piece of bread and dripping. He watched as the man’s podgy fingers groped around the cavernous inside of his black, leather bag. After much coughing and spluttering, Jake Holroyd produced a neatly folded letter, which he presented to Caroline.

Suddenly, the food felt like sawdust in Danny’s mouth as he realised what was about to come. Caroline’s hands shook as she opened the letter and perused its contents.

Jake Holroyd shuffled uneasily. If you can read, Mrs Flynn, you’ll see we have a man taking over your Michael’s job, he explained, and, of course, he’ll need the house for his family.

Oh yes, I can read, and I know the way the company does things, Mr Holroyd. Caroline looked directly at the agent, her hazel eyes full of tears and anger. I’ve not got over Michael’s passing yet, she went on, And I’ve got the lad to think of as well. If they could just give me time to find some decent work instead of the odd casual morning in the market… then we’d soon find a decent place to rent.

Jake Holroyd clutched at the handle of his bag. His pock-marked face took on an intractable expression and his beady eyes narrowed. Now then, Mrs Flynn, Mr Palmer has been very liberal I would say. He’s given you until the day after New Year out of respect for your late husband’s service to the company.

Caroline crossed over to the fire and threw the letter into the yellow flames. Danny watched her wide eyed as she turned to face the agent, her face a picture of wrath.

Bugger off, Holroyd! she yelled at him. Tell your bloody boss that we’ll be out of here on the given day, if not before, so that his poor fool of a workman can move in then kill himself, just like Michael did

I’ll leave you now, Mrs Flynn. You’re overwrought, Jake Holroyd said, his face turning purple with indignation. Picking up his bowler hat, he made a quick dash for the door slamming it hard behind him.

As soon as she heard the door bang shut Caroline slumped down on the floor by Danny’s chair and placing her head on his lap, she began to cry bitterly. All that Danny could think to do was to pat the thick bun of dark brown hair at the nape of her neck. He had never seen Caroline cry before; she was always the strong one who kept the house going. He stared down at the back of her head seeing her body convulse with sobs and the sight of it frightened him. He felt completely at a loss. Nevertheless, he tried to comfort her.

Don’t cry mam. Please don’t cry. He’s a horrible man that Jake Holroyd. Danny prayed that Caroline would find his words soothing. Surely, when she calmed down, she would be able to work something out, he reasoned. Grownups always knew the best thing to do. After all, they were the possessors of total power. He was sure that she would find a job and a house before New Year. They weren’t like the others…. They wouldn’t end up in the workhouse. And so, he sat soothing Caroline as an adult would a child.

The days drifted on toward Christmas and still Caroline hadn’t found any full-time work. The mills were not taking on new hands, as orders had slackened off, and they weren’t interested in a twenty-seven-year-old woman who had only ever worked in a bakery and done casual odd jobs in the market. Caroline had walked the mile and a half to Blackstone to see Will Arkwright, her old employer.

Eeh. It’s grand to see thee lass, and I’m right sorry to hear about Michael. His face was grave and she saw that he was wondering what had brought her out his shop.

Caroline nodded and then blurted out, I’ve really come to ask if you could give me my old job back. She had begged him with her eyes as she stood waiting hopefully that he would agree.

Will considered her request for a few moments then he gave that implacable stare that she had been so familiar with in the past. Nay, lass! It would be far too much, you walking all the way here on a cold winter’s morning. Why, you’d need to set off from home before three. And, if it snowed bad, you’d never get here at all. He shook his head and Caroline had known his word was final.

The Arkwrights had taken her from the workhouse at the age of seven and she had given them fourteen years of hard work, yet they felt no loyalty toward her for all that. She remembered when she’d first arrived at the bakery, asking them if they had become her parents and Mrs Arkwright telling her that she didn’t have any parents; she was a foundling discovered outside the workhouse gates. So, you see you’re a little nobody really. The words had imprinted themselves on her brain and her greatest longing had been to become the object of someone’s love.

When Michael had come into her life and asked her to marry him, she thought that at last she was to be cared for and valued but, it hadn’t been long after the wedding that she realised Michael hadn’t married out of love. What he had really wanted was a woman to warm his bed and rear his son, leaving him free to go his own way. He’d been an easy-going man but a man who hated responsibility. Caroline supposed that she could have left him but there was Danny; she could never have deserted an innocent child who so obviously loved her.

Turning towards home, she felt a surge of anger rise within her, anger with Michael for leaving her and Danny in such straits; for his drinking and gambling throughout their six years of marriage.

As the days passed, Caroline’s eyes became hollow and her face looked drawn. Danny began to experience feelings of alarm, visions of the workhouse started to figure prominently in his thoughts. Every day he would run home from school convinced that today would be the time when Caroline would announce that she had found work and a new place to live. On every occasion he was disappointed.

The week before school finished for the Christmas holiday, Danny approached Tommy Metcalf, one of the boys from Standard Three. Normally, Tommy was a boy that most people shied away from, not because he was an aggressive type but because he had the misfortune to live in Stoops End, the worst slum in Fesley. However, Danny found that any revulsion he felt toward Tommy’s permanently malodorous person, was overcome by his desperate need for advice.

Tommy was thirteen years old and worked half time in Naylor’s Worsted Mill. He prided himself on knowing every rogue in town and every ‘good fiddle’ going. His family consisted of his parents and numerous siblings, none of whom gave any thought to cleanliness, yet Tommy had a hunger for learning and happily paid his penny a week school money out of his own pocket. He was always made to sit alone in class lest he pass any unwelcome guests onto the other children, who, though also poor, were clean. And so Danny found himself sideling up to this undesirable, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall by the school gates.

Hello, Tommy, he ventured.

Tommy gave an affable grin and leaned toward the black-haired boy standing before him. How do, young un, he said. As Danny moved nearer, Tommy’s smile widened exposing a set of dirty teeth. Aren’t you the young lad what’s just lost his old man?

Danny looked up into the other boy’s intelligent grey eyes and nodded. That’s what I wanted to see you about. His voice was filled with uncertainty.

Tommy leaned forward, a mystified expression on his face. Danny caught a strong whiff of stale sweat and dried urine.

You want to see me about your old man dying? What would I have to do with that? Bugger me!

Danny flinched when he heard Tommy swear, not because his language offended him but because Miss Fairfax was eyeing him suspiciously from the other side of the yard. She always came down extremely hard on the users of strong language and, if she had heard the expletive, Danny didn’t want to be found guilty by association. He thought that he’d better clarify the situation quickly.

It’s about my mam, see. We’ve got to be out of the house on Canal Street by the day after New Year and mam can’t find anywhere else to live because, without a job, she can’t pay rent. Danny stood waiting for Tommy to make some kind of suggestion.

Tommy continued to look perplexed. What do you think I can do then?

You know all sorts of people and I thought that perhaps you might know of some cheap places for rent and maybe some jobs. Mam is a good hard worker and is willing to do anything that’s respectable, Danny explained hopefully but wondering if Tommy knew what respectability was.

Tommy was visibly flattered at having his help sought. He was more used to being ostracised by the other children and the teachers. He stroked his narrow chin thoughtfully, screwed up his mouth and frowned. There’s nowt doin’ in the mills, I do know that. He placed a grubby hand on Danny’s shoulder. I’ll ask me ma when I get home, and if there’s anything going anywhere, I’ll come up to your house and let you know.

Danny felt relieved that at last something was being done. Tommy might not be successful but at least there was something to hope for now. Nevertheless, he was somewhat reluctant to let Caroline see the hands in whom their fate might lie, but Tommy Metcalfe seemed like their last hope and even Stoops End must be better than the workhouse. For the rest of the day he dreamed his way through lessons. He imagined Caroline and him living in Stoops End, both working hard and saving toward her dream, a house in Blackstone. She wouldn’t mind living in a slum so much then, and if she had a job she would be out all day anyway, so it would just be place for them to sleep.

When Danny arrived home that teatime Caroline was sitting by a low fire; fuel needed to be carefully rationed now. She stirred half-heartedly at a pan full of sheep’s head broth on the hob.

Hello lad, she murmured. Come and get something hot inside of you. Mrs Fielden, from round the back gave me some vegetables, so we’ve got something to eat for a couple of days and it’s all very nourishing. She got up and busied herself serving the meal into two bowls, which were already on the table waiting to be filled.

Danny studied whether or not to tell her about his encounter with Tommy. He was anxious to do anything that would restore the light to her eyes. Chewing on a piece of potato he decided against it. He didn’t want to see her hopes dashed if Tommy failed in his mission.

When he heard the mournful hooting of various works’ sirens he knew that it was six o’clock. He looked at the dying embers in the fire grate and concluded that his time would be better occupied scouring the canal towpath for pieces of timber or, if he was very lucky, coal. That would brighten the fire, and their evening also. Feeling warm inside after his broth, he took an old sack from behind the door and donning his cap said, I’m just going to look for some fuel, mam. I’ll be as quick as I can.

For over an hour, Danny searched along the canal side probing about in the darkness for precious fuel. The frozen ground scrunched beneath his feet causing him to tread warily. He had no desire to slip and fall into the icy water. Good fortune struck when he found a few good-sized lumps of coal on Palmer’s wharf, obviously fallen from a barge. Satisfied with his pieces of coal and the few short lengths of timber that he had been able to add to the sack, he quickly made his way back home. Anxious to show Caroline how successful his foray had been, he burst into the house swinging the sack into the middle of the floor.

See what I’ve managed to find, mam. Danny’s voice was full of pride. I got some great big… His voice trailed away. There was a familiar unpleasant smell in the room. He turned away from Caroline to see Tommy Metcalfe sitting in the wooden rocking chair by the fire.

A friend has called in to see you. Caroline made the announcement with a knowing smile.

Feeling rather flustered, Danny shot Tommy an awkward glance, then noticing that Caroline appeared to be unperturbed by the presence of this dirty ragamuffin with his cheery smile, he heaved a sigh of relief.

Get some of that wood and coal on the fire so’s Tommy can get a good warm through. Caroline gave the order with a cheerful briskness that Danny hadn’t experienced for a long time. And then we shall all have a nice warming cup of cocoa with some milk in it, she continued.

Danny noticed the flush in Caroline’s cheeks and the celebratory light in her eyes. He shot a questioning glance at Tommy and heard her laugh. The sound sent a shiver of delight through his small frame and he knew then that Tommy had come with good news.

And what have you two been up to, my lad? Caroline asked the question playfully as she spooned cocoa into three mugs. You’ve been plotting behind my back.

Tommy’s found something, hasn’t he? Danny was longing for one of them to break the suspense.

Caroline beamed at them both. Oh yes, love. Your friend here has performed a miracle, for not only has he come to tell me about a job, but like as not, there might be a place to live as well.

Overwhelmed with relief, Danny flung himself at her, and clasping his hands around her waist, he hugged her from sheer delight.

Hold on there, lad, Caroline protested with a laugh. She nodded toward Tommy. It’s him as you should be hugging.

Tommy’s face became pink with embarrassment. Give over, Mrs Flynn, he protested.

What’s the job and where are we going to live? Danny looked from one to the other eagerly awaiting more information.

Caroline poured hot water into the cocoa and milk mixture and stirred each mug slowly as she replied. Tommy told his mam about us when he went home at dinnertime and, while he was at work; she made some enquiries and came up trumps. She knows the landlord of the Travellers’ Rest and he needs a cleaner. I’m going to try for the job because it will see us right, until I find something better. She gave Tommy one of the mugs. There’s a cellar cottage nearby and we’re going to see both places in the morning.

Taking a sip from her mug Caroline sat down opposite their guest, seemingly oblivious to the rancid smell emanating from him, which became stronger as the heat from the fire increased. Every now and again Danny glanced over the top of his mug at his newfound friend with eyes that were filled with gratitude. There would be no Christmas presents this year and probably no rabbit for Christmas dinner, but there would be no workhouse either, Danny thought contentedly. It was nice to see Caroline smiling again and she looked pretty once more. He’d always been so proud of her good looks and nice shape. It just seemed so strange, her being so happy about getting work in a pub, when she had always been dead set against the evils of drink.

There’s no need for you to go to school today, Caroline told Danny the following morning. It’s more important that we inspect our likely place of abode and meet this landlord chap. She threw his long scarf over to him and lifted her shawl from its hook behind the door. "We’d best get off to Mrs Metcalf’s first, though.

Do you know Stoops End? Danny’s tone was nervous. And do you know where Tommy’s mam lives? Cos I don’t. His teeth chattered as he spoke. He felt the intense cold of the December morning despite the long woolly scarf that was wrapped around his neck and crossed over the front of his chest. The sleeves of his well-worn jacket were much too short and the chill from the mist that surrounded him crept up their insides, right to the tops of his arms. Caroline had cut out fresh cardboard and lined his shoes with it that morning, but he could still feel the freezing ground clutching at his feet. Can’t we get a ride, mam?

Caroline pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders and shivered. No, son, we haven’t got money to spare for that, she told Danny. The burial club money is almost gone now and we’ll need to hang on to some to pay for the hire of a cart, then there’s the rent and a few other things, if we get this place. She clutched his hand tighter in hers and quickened her stride. We’ll walk faster and that will soon get us warmed up.

By the time they had done the mile and a half walk to Stoops End Danny’s face felt numb and there was a large dewdrop on the end of his nose. As they stood surveying the tightly packed rows of squalid houses that ran downhill off Station Road, Danny wiped the offending drip from his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. His heart sank as he viewed the dingy grime stretching out before them. He looked up to Caroline for some sign of reassurance, but her face was grave and unsmiling. He realised their lack of choice and that there was nowhere else for them. They simply had to go down the hill and face whatever fate held in store. He forced a cheerful smile and tugged at Caroline’s sleeve. We’d better go and look for Mrs Metcalfe’s house. As they began their descent into the heart of Stoops End Danny tried to reassure Caroline. There’s bound to be some clean folk as well as the mucky ones mam. He halted for a moment, surveying the alleyways and streets all around them, wishing he could see some well-scrubbed