Til Death Do Us Part Read Online Free PDF Page B

floor, he came downstairs.
    â€˜What will you have for breakfast, Tom? Ham and eggs? Kedgeree? Toasted muffins and cheese?’ his host, Hugh Laylor, invited genially. ‘Black tea? Green tea? Brazilian coffee? Or perhaps a few drams of something a little stronger?’
    â€˜Nothing, I thank you, Hugh, and I’m more than grateful for your kindness in giving me a bed. But I really must be about my business without any further delay.’
    There was concern in the doctor’s eyes as he looked at the pallor of mental strain on his friend’s features, the stooped posture of the narrow shoulders, the rumpled untidiness of the wedding suit, and thought ruefully, ‘By God, Tom Potts, you’ve always been plain in looks and string-bean in body, but this morning you look positively wretched in all aspects.’
    Aloud he urged, ‘At least stay a little while and have tea or coffee and smoke a morning pipe with me, Tom. We can discuss what’s best to do, because I don’t doubt that the news of what’s happened is already spreading far and wide across the parish.’
    Despite his outward abject appearance, Tom’s dark lucent eyes radiated determination as he said quietly, but very firmly, ‘This isn’t the first time by a long chalk that I’ve been made into an object of mockery in this parish, Hugh, so I’m well able to bear it. But I need to speak with Amy without further delay, and to reassure her that all will be put right in very short order.’
    Laylor frowned and shook his head. ‘No, Tom, you need to speak with Amy after, not before, you’ve put this situation to rights. You need to show proof that you’ve acted, not merely say that you will act.’
    Knowing his new wife’s fiery temper as he did, Tom was forced to agree.
    â€˜I fear that you’re right, Hugh. I’ll go directly to the lock-up and get that sorted, before I go to see Amy.’
    â€˜I’ll come with you,’ Laylor offered.
    Tom shook his head. ‘No, it’s best that I go alone. So thank you again for your hospitality, Hugh, and I’ll keep you informed of events.’
    Laylor’s house was situated near to the northern point of the Green’s broad triangular expanse, and as Tom made his exit the bells of the various Needle Mills and factories began ringing their final warning summons to the workforce.
    He grimaced ruefully, knowing that men, women, youths, girls and children would now come swarming from the courts, alleys and streets which radiated outwards from the central Green, and that dressed in his dishevelled wedding finery he would attract curious stares and jeering gibes. Among the labouring classes there were very few who looked upon any Parish Constable as a friend and protector of the poor. The vast majority saw the constabulary as the willing instrument of the rich, powerful, land-owning gentry, Needle Masters and factory owners, and the harsh enforcer of these same ruling classes’ self-serving laws.
    The first raucous bellows came from a group of workmen. ‘Look at Jack Sprat over there! Don’t he look a picture!’
    â€˜Oh, where did you get that hat, Jack Sprat, wi’ all them luverly flowers? Oh, where did you get that hat, Jack Sprat, wi’ all them luverly flowers?’ A gang of factory girls mocked in song.
    Tom inwardly cursed himself for neglecting to remove the wedding rosettes from his tall hat as he strode through the oncoming stream of grimy, unshaven, malodorous, shabby-clad humankind.
    â€˜That wedding didn’t last long, did it! His missus has buggered him off already!’
    â€˜Can you blame the poor little wench? Her must have thought her was in bed wi’ a long bag o’ bones.’
    Tom looked straight ahead, stoically enduring their jeers and mocking laughter.
    â€˜That’s right, that is! Her must ha’ thought her was being shagged by a bloody