‘Don’t worry, Ernest, we all know Thomas was off his head. You saved Alex here and, as this good gentleman says, it wasn’t your fault – you were simply defending your customers. He’s had it coming to him for a long time, has the bastard; nobody could abide him down at the flay-pits.’ One of the lads from the flay-pits slapped Ernest on the back. ‘You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but he was a right Nickey. We were all winding one another up; it’s part of the banter between us lads, but there was no need to pull out a knife.’
Alex Braithwaite walked over to Ernest. ‘You saved my life. I’ll tell the copper that it was either Thomas or me. And that Thomas cracking his head open was an accident. I wish I’d never egged him on about Lucy Bancroft, else this would have never happened.’ He bowed his head.
Adam looked around him at all the worried faces. He had meant to have a quiet drink and enjoy his evening, but now he was a witness to the death of Thomas Farrington. But perhaps it was no loss. He knew for sure that one person would not be mourning over his death, and that was his supposed bride-to-be.
14
It was just six-thirty in the morning when Bill Bancroft saw the peeler coming in through his yard gates. He felt panic and looked quickly at the lime pit where the bodies of the babies were hidden, hoping that no one had told the policeman of his crimes. He sighed deeply in relief as he heard, with some disbelief, the real reason why he was visiting, and couldn’t quite take in the words that the peeler was telling him.
‘Nay, you must have got it wrong. Thomas Farrington can’t be dead – don’t talk daft. You’re talking about the wrong man. He’ll be coming out of his back door and starting work any minute now, along with the rest of them.’
‘I’m afraid he won’t be, sir. He’s cold to the touch on the mortuary slab. He got himself into a bit of bother last night at The Fleece, where the landlord had to protect one of his valued customers from being attacked. Unfortunately it ended up with Thomas’s demise, when he fell and cracked his skull open on the hearth. It was an accident – we have reliable witnesses to prove it. By all accounts, your Thomas Farrington was a nasty bit of stuff, if riled, and that was what had happened, when somebody was bragging about catching the eye of your daughter. And Thomas lost his rag, because he said he was to marry her. In fact I need to talk to your daughter to tell her the news, if they were to wed.’ The constable looked at the open-mouthed pit owner and saw a smile come onto his face.
‘Now I know you’ve got the wrong man. Our Lucy would never marry Thomas. She thinks him thick in the head, and I’ve never heard a wedding mentioned, or even his name uttered by her in my house. In fact she plays hell with me, whenever I mention the lad’s name.’ Bill laughed.
‘No, it’s right, boss. I was there when Thomas died. And it was all through him getting it into his head that he was to marry your lass,’ Ted Briggs, who had just entered the yard and overheard the conversation, butted in. ‘Thomas went mad when Alex Braithwaite was jibing him about her. He pulled a knife on Alex, so he did.’
‘Well, I don’t know what to make of it. The poor bugger – Thomas might not have been the full shilling, but he was a bloody good worker. You’d better come into the house and see our lass, before she sets off to work. I’m sure she’ll put you right, Officer, that there was no such marriage planned and it was all in his head.’
Bill walked across the yard and into the kitchen, which was busy with his children wanting their breakfasts and Lucy getting ready to go to Black Moss Farm.
‘This lad has come with bad news this morning, and he wants to get something straight with you, our Lucy.’ Bill looked at the faces of his family as they realized that a peeler had entered their house.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you. I can see that you are busy. But it’s like Mr Bancroft says: I’m here with bad news, especially for you, Miss Bancroft.’ The peeler hesitated for a moment, watching an expression of puzzlement on Lucy’s face. ‘I’m afraid there was an incident at The Fleece last night and your husband-to-be died in a terrible accident.’ He dropped his eyes and heard gasps all round the room.
‘What’s he on about, Bill? Our Lucy isn’t promised to anyone.’ Dorothy wiped her hands on her apron and looked at her eldest daughter.
‘I don’t know what you mean. I’m not wedding anyone. Who’s dead? And why am I involved?’ Lucy stood up and felt her legs shaking. This news could only mean one thing: that Thomas Farrington had died. But she didn’t know just how much the peeler knew. And she had no intention of telling him about his blackmail unless she had to.
‘That’s not what Thomas Farrington thought,’ Bill said to his daughter. ‘He’d got into his head that he was marrying you, and he pulled out a knife on Alex Braithwaite, the stupid bugger. But old Ernest came between them and pushed him to one side, only for Thomas to hit his head on the fire hearth. This lad says he’s laid out in the mortuary in Keighley, dead as they come.’ He shook his head. ‘He always was a hot-headed devil, but why he decided he was to marry you, lass, I don’t know.’
‘Tuppence short of a full shilling, that’s what he was – always had been. His mother, when she was alive, worried about him
