The Colonel's Spinster - Audrey Harrison Page 0,66

inside the mill, hearing the uncertainty in her father’s voice suddenly made her feel insecure in their position.

Gathering her courage, she turned and smiled at her father. “I shall make tea on your fire. Do you have anything to eat? If we are to stay here tonight I hope you have, or we shall be reduced to toasting one of your ledgers!”

“Fortunately for my paperwork, I always bring a parcel of food from home. One never knows when one will become peckish, and the shops around here probably make their bread with more brick dust than flour.”

“It’s a blessing that you come prepared.” Prudence busied herself. The parcel her father handed her contained enough bread, ham, and cheese to split it for an early meal for them. She put some on one side. “I will take this to Mick at the gate and Fred in the stables. They must be equally as worried about what’s going on and hungry too.”

“It will take a lot to upset Mick,” Mr. Bamber said. “Quite a few people have been shown off the premises by Mick, and they haven’t dared to threaten him. He is very handy with his fists when needed.”

“Good to know. Although I hope that won’t be necessary.”

The pair ate their repast, and then Prudence took portions out to the two workers still on the site. Fred was more than happy to remain with the horses.

“They are used to the noise of the mill. No crowds will disturb these beauties,” he said, accepting the bread and cheese gratefully whilst answering Prudence’s questions.

“Good. As soon as we can, we’ll return to Stretford, but it will probably be dark by the time we leave.”

“I will be ready in the shortest time. We will get home safe and sound. Don’t worry, Miss Bamber.”

“I have every faith in you,” Prudence said, before leaving the stable and walking over to the gate.

The amount of people passing had not let up. She smiled grimly at Mick as he came out of his small office. “I didn’t think there were so many people in Manchester,” she admitted.

“I have been listening to them passing,” Mick said. “I don’t think they are all from around here, which isn’t good.”

“No loyalty?”

“No, Miss. There will be trouble ‘afore the night’s out,” Mick warned.

Giving him the food, Prudence did not hang around near the gate. She found the situation unnerving. Hurrying back to her father’s office, she wrapped her arms around her middle. The sooner they could return home, the better.

Chapter 22

Of all the days for a thick yellow fog to curl its way through the streets of Manchester, today was not the one for it to happen. Unfortunately, the weather failed to comply with what the populace would have liked it to do, and fog snaked its way down every road and alleyway, enfolding everyone on the streets in its thick choking smog.

Some of the strikers decided that they had had enough of an adventure and did not wish to struggle through the fog any longer, and they started to return home. Mick had reported that there seemed to be a surge of people travelling in the opposite direction, clearly seeking out their homes, in which there would be an escape from the dark, damp air.

Prudence had been worried that she had no longer been able to see the gate clearly, but Mick had sent Fred up to reassure them that there was the possibility of a ceasing of activity.

Fred returned to the stables, but then it seemed that there was a roar outside the mill gates and some sort of commotion. He joined Mick, and they both tried to peer through the mist to work out what was going on.

Some folk grabbed the gates and rattled the metal, begging to be allowed into the yard.

“Be off wi’ thee!” Mick shouted. “T’mill’s shut!”

“Let us in, or we’ll be crushed!” more than one voice appealed.

“We’re not daft. You will get up to no mischief here tonight. Be gone!”

The noise seemed to increase. Shouting, running, and shoving was taking place. More and more people were being pushed against the gate, and Mick looked in alarm at Fred. “Best get the master. I don’t think they’re funning. Looks like they’re being pushed up against the gates,” Mick said quietly.

Fred set-off at a run into the mill and up the stairs. Arriving breathless he repeated what Mick had said.

“What the devil is happening out there?” Mr. Bamber demanded. “Come on Fred. Let’s go and have a