Chapter 10

The longer she spent in Tipton the more her hatred of her family grew. They were cold, cruel, and brutal - so unlike her loving parents that she could hardly believe that her mother had been one of them. Even her grandmother, whom she admired in many ways, had proven to be a disappointment. Her ability, and indeed willingness, to protect her granddaughter was limited, and Molly had more than once felt the unwelcome impact of her uncle's fists in response to some imagined slight or transgression, or a sly kick from Prue when the spiteful cow thought no one was looking.

The only bright spots in Molly's life were the times when she escaped to the cut to meet up with Elizabeth. They grew closer day by day, sharing their dreams and fears, exchanging confidences. Though she might be better fed and clothed, Molly knew that Elizabeth was just as trapped and devoid of hope as she was. Having a friend to share it with made them both stronger.

For her part, Elizbeth knew that her father, one of the most important middlemen in the area, was a cruel, greedy, and corrupt man. In times past, nailers had been paid in tokens which were redeemable only in businesses approved by the fogger who issued them. It was one of the ways in which the workers were kept poor and beholden. Over the years, there had been a number of strikes and protests in the area, and the wicked 'truck' system had eventually died. However, there were still plenty of other ways for a fogger to cheat the desperate. Elizabeth told Molly that her father had two sets of weights. The ones he used to supply the nailers with iron on credit in the morning, and the ones that he used to buy back the formed nails at the end of the day. Molly snarled when she realised how much the man was making from her hard work. Elizabeth tried to sneak her friend food and money by way of recompense but this had come to an abrupt end when her father had caught and punished her.

After a few months of Prue's disgusting food, Molly had volunteered to buy and cook the family's supper. Although she had originally used it as an excuse to escape her unpleasant kin and meet with Elizabeth, she had also managed to improve the edibility of their food to a significant degree. Soups and stews were now redolent with the herbs she gathered from the nearby fields and hedgerows, and the nuts, berries, and tubers she collected on her travels filled their bellies. The family's health improved and their teeth no longer rattled in their heads for lack of nutrients. But whilst this improved her family's general disposition towards her in private, she was still never acknowledged as anything more than a hired girl in public.

On the anniversary of her father's death, Molly retired to her bed early. Unable to mourn her father openly, she had been heart-sick all day and wanted only to forget her desperate loss in the blissful blankness of sleep. Pulling back the coverlet to slip wearily between the sheets, she found a bundle of letters tied up with a frayed ribbon resting on her pillow. Blinking in surprise, she picked them up and held them close to the spluttering light of the candle stub to see what they were. From the moment she read the greeting on the first page she was too intrigued to want to sleep. The letter was from her mother thought written in Father Grey's fluid hand. Heart swelling in gratitude, she realised that her grandmother had found a quiet way to help her feel closer to her parents.

"My dearest Mother,

I feel that I must write to you again although there is not so much news to tell you. My man, my darling Joe, has now left for the front, as have so many others. Father Grey will be joining him soon, so this may be the last opportunity I have to contact you for some time.

I was so relieved to get this latest letter from you. I wonder how you are getting on now. Your news about my father's death was a great joy to me, although I feel shame in admitting that in the presence of Father Grey, and I trust that, in his Christian goodness, he will convey my honest response to you in this regard rather than hide the truth behind polite lies. I pray now only that you have found some relief in his passing, and that you will find true peace in what comes now.

Our daughter Molly (or 'Mahlie', as Joe has always said) comes on well. She grows tall and strong, and I see much of you and I in her. She has our stubbornness, and some of our skills with the hammer, but she has also her father's good nature with beasts. You will be pleased to know that she need not work and her only time at the forge has been spent learning what her father has to teach her. She knows her letters too and can keep proper accounts. If no better life can be found for her, then she will do well as the wife of a farrier or blacksmith – although I do not think Joe's current apprentice will ever be a suitable match for her, and nor will any other ordinary village lad. The fire in her is too great, and the restlessness also, even as it was in me. And so my fears for her grow daily. Finally, I have come to understand the grief that I caused you, and I heartily repent of it, although I cannot regret the love that Joe and I share.

I hold you in my heart, Mother, and I will prey for your health daily, as I hope that you will ever do for me and mine.

Your daughter, Maggie"

Molly felt her eyes burn with unshed tears. Her mother's voice came through so strongly it was as if she was in the little alcove, reading her own words aloud. Sniffing, Molly selected another letter at random. It was dated after the war. The tone was a lot less conciliatory but still effecting in its honesty. It read:

"Mother,

My man has been returned to me, thanks be to God. He is changed, as so many have been, but he still shows me more consideration than ever I knew in all my years in Tipton. I continue to pray that he will eventually find his peace here with Molly and me. In the mean time we cherish each and every smile, no matter how brief, and look to find ways to ease his anguish.

Despite it all, I have no regrets. I hope and trust that…"

Molly wanted to read more but by this point the scrap of candle had guttered almost to invisibility. With a sigh, she refolded the letters carefully, wrapped them in a clean handkerchief, and slipped them into the small hiding place she had discovered under her bed. By the time her aunt and uncle had decided to turn in for the night there was no trace in the attic room that Molly had done anything other than headed straight for her cot.

Later, in the dark, she had been obliged to listen whilst her uncle enticed her aunt to rut with him. Prue had given every indication of being happy to take part but Molly could not supress the feeling that she had acquiesced in order to save herself from a beating. Listening to her uncle's porcine grunting, she realised how lucky her mother had been to find a good man like her father. She wondered if she would ever find the same for herself. If she did, she promised herself that she would do whatever it took to keep hold of it.

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. I promise that there will be a Shelby showing up very soon!