Manchester Moll by Emma Hornby

Author:Emma Hornby [Hornby, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780593077535
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2017-05-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

‘MOLL, WAKE UP.’

‘Mm?’

‘Mam’s gone.’

‘What d’you mean, gone?’

‘Her bed ain’t been slept in. She didn’t come home last night.’

Moll lifted the candle in the saucer from the wooden crate that served as a bedside table. Her hands shook as she struck a match and touched the flame to the blackened wick. ‘What’s the time?’

‘Just shy of five. Christ, if Preston’s followed through with his plan—’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘But what if he has? What will we do? Where else could she be? She’s never stopped out till this hour.’

‘Come on.’ Taking care in the dim light, she led Bo through.

‘Me and the Tigers should have sorted him sooner. We should have got rid of him before this. We—’

‘Calm down, lad. We’re worrying needlessly, you’ll see,’ Moll said with more confidence than she felt.

‘Look.’

She stared at the bed her father had once slept and died in, now back in the kitchen. Sure enough, the covers were undisturbed. Dread rolled through her but glancing to Bo, she masked it. Pale-faced, he was gnawing his bottom lip. For all his new-found maturity, her brother now was the one who had always looked to her for guidance; naturally, she resumed her role of protector. He needed her to tell him all would be well, what they were to do, and this she did:

‘Brew some tea, lad. I’ll walk to the end of the street, see if I can spot her. Happen they continued their supping at some friend’s dwelling after the publics closed. They’re likely on their way home as we speak.’

‘Aye?’

Putting on her shawl, Moll nodded and slipped out. At the corner, she glanced both ways along Bengal Street then retraced her steps, continuing past her house to Blossom Street’s opposite end. However, Great Ancoats Street leading off yielded similar results: Mam was nowhere in sight.

Bo turned, expectant-faced, when she re-entered. She shook her head.

He dropped into a chair. ‘Preston’s done it, ain’t he? Mam’s gone.’

Moll didn’t answer. Untying her shawl, she let it fall to the ground and, like Bo, dropped into a seat, numb with the terrible truth.

‘The police would be neither use nor ornament.’

Moll nodded agreement. ‘Mam’s a grown woman, they’ll say, free to come and go as she pleases. Proving Preston guilty of wrongdoing would be impossible.’

‘Not that they’d be mithered either way, I’ll be bound. What’s one less drunkard off Ancoats’ streets to them?’

‘A blessing, likely,’ she whispered.

Bo drummed the tabletop then scraped back his chair. ‘I can’t sit and do nowt.’ He shrugged on his jacket and reached for the bowler hat. Then changing his mind, he opted for his cap, pulling it low to conceal his new fringe. ‘I’ll stick out like a sore thumb otherwise,’ he explained needlessly and donned the muffler she’d bought. Moll could imagine what would happen if another gang spotted him.

‘Who’s that?’ Moll murmured when, having walked him to the door, she spied a beshawled figure in the distance. As it drew nearer, she hurried to meet it; the hobbled gait was unmistakable. ‘Jilly.

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