Read Down Weaver's Lane for Free Online Page B

stairs.
    Madge hesitated just inside the front door and Emmy stayed close to her mother.
    A voice from the back shouted, ‘Who’s there?’
    Gus came clumping downstairs again. ‘It’s only me, love. I’ve brought you your new lodgers.’ He went out for more of their things.
    An old woman appeared from the rear, wiping her hands on a grubby pinafore. ‘You’ll be Madge Carter. I’m Jen Miggs an’ I don’t allow no fighting in my house.’
    Emmy took an instant dislike to her, hating the way she eyed them up and down. And what did the old woman mean, fighting? Her mother didn’t behave like that. It was men who got into fights usually, or the lowest sort of street walker. Her mother talked nicely and she made people laugh, not get angry.
    ‘Are you the best he could find?’ Jen asked Madge scornfully, then grasped Emmy’s arm with one bony hand and held her at arm’s length to study her carefully. ‘How old is she?’
    ‘Only ten.’
    Emmy cast a startled glance sideways. Her mother knew very well she was thirteen.
    ‘Ten last month,’ Madge said airily.
    ‘She’s well growed for ten. Pretty, too. A year, two at most, an’ she’ll be ready to join you.’
    ‘She’s not going into it,’ Madge declared. ‘My daughter’s going to have a better life than me.’
    Jen laughed, a wheezing choking sound that went on and on until she hacked up a gob of phlegm and spat it into a ragged handkerchief. ‘Don’t allow no spitting on the floor, neither,’ she commented as she stuffed the handkerchief back into her apron pocket. ‘I get gentlemen visiting here sometimes an’ they like things kep’ nice.’
    Emmy felt a shiver run down her spine as she realised what sort of house this was. It was bad enough that her mother let men visit her and use her body, but Emmy wasn’t going to do that. Never, ever.
    ‘They all say their kids aren’t going into it,’ Jen said once she’d stopped laughing. ‘It never happens, though. Young flesh brings in more money than old an’ they can’t resist that.’ She cast a scornful look in Madge’s direction. ‘Well, aren’t you going to bring the rest of your things in? George said to send you down to the alehouse as soon as you arrived. Your lass can unpack the stuff an’ get the room ready. She’s plenty old enough for that.’
    The house was bigger inside than it looked, running backwards for three or four rooms. But they were shown only one room at the front on the first floor.
    Emmy stared round it in dismay, hating the thought of having no privacy.
    ‘It’s nice and clean,’ Madge said, with a bright, false smile fixed in place. ‘And I’m glad there’s a table and proper bed. Four chairs, with mine. That’s really nice.’
    ‘George sent ’em round. See you keep everything clean.’ Jen started to leave, then turned back again. ‘Come and get directions from me when you’re ready to go into town. George wants to see you soon as you arrive.’
    ‘I know Northby,’ Madge said, losing her smile. ‘I grew up here.’
    Jen peered at her. ‘I don’t recognise you. What was you called then?’
    ‘Never you mind. I’m Madge Carter now and that’s all anyone needs to know.’
    As Jen stared her mouth fell open in sudden recognition. ‘I thought you looked familiar. Madge Butterfield! That’s who you are.’
    ‘Shh! Not any more. I don’t want to - you know, embarrass my family.’
    Jen cackled. ‘Call yoursen what you like. It don’t worry me.’
    When she had left Madge fumbled in the side slit in her skirt to find the purse hanging on its string beneath. She pressed a florin into Emmy’s hand. ‘I’d better go and see what George wants. If you walk into town with me, lovie, I’ll show you round a bit. There used to be a bakery behind the church. We’ll get a nice new loaf and some cheese. Growing girls need good food.’
    ‘Why did you tell her I was only ten?’ Emmy whispered, pushing the florin carefully into a little pocket she