He thought for a minute about what to tell Joe, but really the question was not difficult. ‘Talk to the hands,’ he said. ‘Whenever you decide to make a change – bring in a new machine, for example, or alter the hours of work – talk to them first. Half the squabbles in our industry happen because something has been sprung on the hands without warning, and their instant reaction is to oppose it. Tell them why you want to make the change, discuss with them the problems that might arise, see what suggestions they have.’
Joe objected: ‘You can talk to your people, you’ve only got a dozen or so. My grandfather has more than a hundred at the Piggery alone.’
‘I know,’ said Spade. ‘That’s where a trade union is so useful.’
‘Except that they’re illegal, as you said.’
‘A lot of masters, in the cotton industry as well as the wool, want to get that Combination Act repealed. What with that and the Treason Act and the Seditious Meetings Act, the hands can hardly speak without risking their necks – and men are quick to resort to violence when violence is all they’ve got.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Joe. ‘Thank you.’
‘Any time. I mean that. I’ll be glad to help you if I can.’
Joe got up to leave, and Spade walked him to the door.
Joe said: ‘Is there one thing I could do right away, maybe a small thing, that would signal that things are going to be different?’
Spade thought for a moment and said: ‘Abolish the rule prohibiting people from going to the privy except at certain scheduled times.’
Joe stared at him. ‘Good Lord, does my grandfather do that?’
‘He certainly does. So do other masters in the town – though not all. I don’t have such a rule. Nor does Amos Barrowfield.’
‘I should think not. It’s barbaric!’
‘The women in particular hate it. The men, if they’re desperate, just piss on the floor.’
‘Disgusting!’
‘So change it.’
Joe shook Spade’s hand. ‘I will,’ he said, and he left.
*
Amos waited until he was alone with Elsie. This happened once a week, after Sunday school. They sat at a table in a room that still smelled of unwashed children. Amos said without preamble: ‘Has it ever crossed your mind that Earl Henry might not be the father of young Hal?’
She raised her eyebrows. The question had startled her, he saw. But her response was low-key. ‘It’s crossed everybody’s mind,’ she said. ‘At least, all those interested in gossip, which is most of the population of Kingsbridge.’
‘But what makes them suspect?’
‘The simple fact that it took Jane nine years to conceive. So when she did people naturally wondered how that had come about. Of course there are several possibilities, but gossips will always prefer the most sordid one.’
So she thought adultery was sordid. Well, she was right. He almost gave up there and then.
He knew what he had to say but, now that the moment had come, he felt mortified. All the same he forced it out. ‘I think I’m the real father of Hal,’ he said, and he felt his cheeks warm with a flush of shame. ‘I’m sorry to shock you.’
‘I’m not very shocked,’ she said.
‘Really?’
‘I’ve always suspected it. So have other people.’
He felt even more embarrassed. ‘You mean people in this town guessed I was responsible?’
‘Well, everyone thought you were having an affair with Jane.’
‘It wasn’t an affair.’
