Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Authors note
A Memorable Man
Prologue
wooden chair that had always stood by the fire, exhausted now
at the end of his day of labour. The comfort of his home
washed gently over him as he relaxed, bathed in the warm
yellow glow of the crackling fire, his belly full as he nodded.
Pictures of a dark haired boy running, running and hopping on
his short lame leg flickered in the flames of the fire as his
eyelids closed.
The cottage stood on the edge of the hamlet of Appley
Cross, a smattering of little dwellings that had sprung up in a
ramshackle way about a quarter of a mile from a crossroads.
To the South and North lay the growing cities of Manchester
and Liverpool. To the West, a larger village built around its
namesake, a pretty, willow-fringed square of grass, Appley
Green. To the east of the little hamlet lay miles and miles of
flat, black peat moss as far as the eye could see. Drained a
hundred years before, it now provided good growing land in
times of plenty and some sustenance even for those who hadnt
a farthing and lived on what they could gather from the earth.
Peat fires in the winter, wheat and grain when summer reigned
and turnipsalways turnips.
The night was still and quiet, bright in the glow of the
autumn moon, the first frost of the coming winter settling on
tiptoe at the edge of dawn. The little cottage seemed almost to
breathe softly as the girl approached. She had walked from the
crossroads, down through the little hamlet, her heart heavy
with despair as she looked at the empty darkness ahead and
realised she had taken the wrong road. The dim, yellow glow
in the window of the little cottage drew her troubled mind like
a moth to a flame. She stood, lit by the moon and looked back
through the hamlet. She thought the houses looked like they
too had ended up there by mistake, as if they also were lost as
she was and were too tired to go on. She pulled her heavy
woollen shawl around her, silently thanking her mother and
tears came at the thought of the loving fingers that had made it.
The memory wearied her heart and her courage.
she loved in it. Of course, none knew that she knew this; it was
a secret she kept from them and that they kept from her. A sore
too painful to acknowledge, better to keep it covered with a
veil of secrecy and shed her tears when she was alone.
How it cheered her dear Nathaniel when she smiled and so
she did, even through her pain because she loved him so. He
had been out since daybreak over at the site of the Church. The
reason she was lying so late in her bed, she told herself, was
that she would have enough strength to rise and meet her halfsister Margarets girl when she arrived which she surely would
today. All through the day before they had expected her on the
wagon-load of bricks from Manchester. By the time word
came that they had arrived many hours late, a dark wintry
night had fallen. Nathaniel had gone down to the crossroads
with a lantern but there had been no sight of Elspet or the
driver, only a wagon-load of bricks without horses. He had
hardly slept for worry.
Eliza had woken from her sleep as daylight filled the room,
instinctively reaching out to the empty space beside her to feel
only the still warm imprint of her husbands body. Poor
Nathaniel, he would be at the site of the Church doing his duty,
guiltily aware of his Eliza at home when he should be with her,
as was his duty. Now he would be worried that he had failed in
yet another duty, to safeguard his niece. Nathaniel had always
been a worrier, what would happen to him when she was
gone? There would be no-one to stroke his hand by the fire in
the evening and tell him what a wonderful man he was. She
hoped the girl was of a good sort and she hoped with all her
heart that she would like it here and stay long afterwell, she
hoped she would stay.
As her memory wandered, Eliza drew again in her mind
the picture she had created of Elspet Sydall. The features she
imagined were drawn from long ago memories of her own
half-sister, dark eyed and beautiful and her brother-in-law,
wiry and ever-busy with no time for conversation. She
included however his slight build and energy as estimable
characteristics in the picture she drew of his daughter. And
finally, to that picture she added the ever-present memories of