The Girl from the Tanner's Yard

might have been tempted by the hoaxers’ convincing deceits, in his search for forgiveness for not saving Mary from her death. Ivy had been a close friend for many years and at one time Adam had thought of courting her, but she had been too headstrong for him. He shook his head, thinking that it would never have lasted; and besides, Mary had appeared in his life and he’d known instantly that she was the one for him.
He rose from his knees and braved the gale outside, walking to what he knew was the coal house, hoping there would be at least a cob or two still remaining in the dark corner of the stone-built shed. Finding a small pile of coal still there, he quickly returned into the house, built the fire up and placed a mutton pie that he’d bought from a street seller in Keighley into the rusty side-oven to warm. He sighed and looked around him, and it was then that he realized how thankful he was that he had been brought back to his roots. Now it was time to rebuild his life and try and forget the past.
With the fire lit and the mutton pie warming in the side-oven, Adam sat back and gazed into the flames of the fire. So much had happened since he had left Black Moss as a younger man: he’d lost both parents and his wife, and had seen quite a bit of the world, but now he was home and he meant to settle down. Tomorrow he’d go to the nearby flay-pits, where they tanned hides, and buy some lime to whitewash the walls, then advertise his need for a local lass to clean and do the housework. She’d have to be a quiet one, a lass who didn’t gossip; he’d no time for flibbertygibbets who chattered all the time. He aimed for a quiet life compared to the last few years – God willing!
Adam felt himself dozing, his head getting heavier and his eyes closing, as the heat from the fire warmed his bones. The events of the day jumbled in his mind and, as the cloak of sleep overcame him, memories of his past came flooding back. The fateful day when his life had been torn apart by the act of a thieving beggar and his own actions.
Slowly his mind replayed the day.
It had been a warm summer’s day and by his side was his beautiful smiling wife, Mary. She was blossoming, after just giving him the news that they were to become parents and she was carrying their first child. Adam was dressed in his police uniform; even though it was his day off, he’d decided to wear it, as he was proud to be part of the constabulary within Keighley organized by the Borough Council. He enjoyed the position, even though it meant that he witnessed the darker side of life, and still couldn’t quite believe the depths of deprivation within the slum areas of his beat. Although the force had not been formed long, he had built himself a good reputation within it – one of fairness, and of carrying out well the letter of the law, even though sometimes he did it in his own way.
The locals, however, viewed him with suspicion and were not as keen on their protectors since they had agreed to carry out and enforce the local Poor Law. There was rioting in some places to defend the beggars and poor of the area, who they said were being hounded by the constabulary and made to live in the newly built workhouses, in order to keep the streets tidy and ease the government’s conscience. Adam had paid no heed to the situation, ignoring even his mother and father’s sympathies for those less fortunate than themselves, and had gone out dressed, proud as Punch, in his police attire.
Mary and he had enjoyed dinner with his mother and father at Black Moss and were on their way to the Piece Hall at Halifax, excited about the fair that was being held there and about watching Blondin, the renowned tightrope-walker, walk blindfolded the height and width of the Piece Hall. Adam smiled in his sleep as he remembered the hall bustling with visitors from far and wide, and with stallholders, traders and performers competing with one another, shouting their wares within the large, three-tiered high, square building that was still used by the woollen trade. Its name depicted its origins, as a ‘piece’ was the name for a thirty-yard length of woven woollen fabric produced on a hand-loom in a weaver’s home, then brought for sale within the walls of the mighty hall.
The Piece Hall was packed with traders most weeks, but that day was one of gaiety within its old stone walls and everyone was celebrating, as ribbons and banners fluttered in the wind and people cheered and talked along its ancient corridors. Mary had gasped as, far above their heads, a narrow wire was strung from one corner to the other, in readiness for the mighty Blondin to perform his daring feat. Both of them were laughing and giggling as they climbed the four flights of twisting steep stone steps to the very top of the hall, to be as close to the performer as they possibly could be, squeezing their way into the edge of the balcony that overlooked the cobbled market place far below. Once there, Mary regretted not looking around the market as she spotted a chestnut-seller and turned, pleading with Adam to go back down and buy her some chestnuts. In his sleep Adam mouthed the words, ‘Stay there, I’ll be back’, before his dreams took him down the steep stairs to the chestnut-seller and looking up to his beloved Mary, before re-climbing the stairs.
His smile turned to a frown as he remembered hesitating for a moment. Something was wrong; somebody was running amongst the crowd along the floor that Mary was on. There was