A bit longer than usual. I planned the story to start in 1901 but have changed it to 1903 - so have altered Annie's age, and will go back and edit the other chapters accordingly.

I was pleased to see a clear fine day on Sunday, so Louisa’s worries about having our fifty odd guests cluttering up the front room can now recede. There are no discernible clouds at all, and the temperature promises to be in the high 70’s – ideal for an al fresco tea party.

James Ardern, the manager from the Co-operative was very curious as to the reason for the party when he delivered the 75 teacakes yesterday. But I didn’t let on to him. I wanted everyone to be guessing.

My wife, Louisa, is all aflutter. She worries that things will not go smoothly, that our neighbours will not be interested in my ideas and might even turn nasty.  But I consider myself a good judge of human nature, and I feel that most if not all of my neighbours will see that my suggestions will in the end further their own interests, as well as mine, of course, but they don’t need to know that.

After breakfast was over and the washing up done, I heard Louisa give the servants their instructions. Blanche and Alice were set the task of laying out the cakes on plates with six on each, and making sure that the tea cups and saucers were washed and ready. They were intending to have sets of cups and saucers and a plate with six cakes on each of 10 trays, with a jug of milk and a sugar bowl and spoons for each. Then each family group could be served together. Except those with large numbers of children, such as the Thornleys and the Simpsons. They would require two trays, and hopefully they would sit in an area well apart for anyone who cared for peace and quiet.

We then got ready for church. We are Catholics, and I sing in the choir, so we soon were setting out for St. Mary’s Church in Marple Bridge, the gift of which, I reminded myself, was owed to Lord Howard of Glossop, who had been very much in my thoughts of late. Personally, I would have preferred if we might belong to St. Martin’s Church, as I feel that all together a better class of people attend there, and the organ and choir are quite exceptional, but my wife and her mother and Alice the maid are all determined to keep in their Catholic ways. I converted to please mywife, but don’t really take religion all that seriously. If it weren’t for being the lead soloist in the choir, I don’t think I could stand to attend regularly.

Not having a car of our  own yet, I hired a cab to take us to church, and then arranged for the man to be available to pick us up to return us to our house at 12.30. That will give us time for a quick lunch before the hoards arrived at 3.

From our house, the cab went goes down Ley Lane, making a very sharp right turn onto Hollins Lane, and then going down hill at a very steep clip, past Hollins House, past the convent, past the Oaks, and finally arriving at St. Mary’s Church. It always amuses me to go towards what looked like an ordinary house and by going down the back path, find yourself in a lovely little church.

When St. Mary’s was built, back in 1856, Catholics were not accepted and it was only with the Act of Acceptance that Churches could be built and come into the open, rather than having secret services in people’s homes. All thanks to Lord Howard of Glossop, the father of the present incumbant, who did much to make Catholicism an accepted part of church life in England. But even so, as they walked around the rectory, and went into the side door, I smiled and thought that it was almost as if we were doing something in secret.

When I climbed up to the choir loft, I looked twice at the woman who I think must be Hannah Harrison, who I have invited to the party this afternoon. She is a pretty woman, and it is hard to believe she is old enough to be a widow with a six year old child. She always smiles at me so sweetly, and I cannot help but think of how pleasant it would be to make her aquaintance more fully, should I say.

Ah, this droning on in Latin fail bores me to death. But I can spend the time thinking about other things. I was musing before about how this church came into existence. It was the Irish coming here that really made the Catholic Church sit up and demand to be taken seriously. There were so many of them.  But now there are Bishops and Archbishops here, as they have in the continent, and since the first time since Mary Tudor in 1555, there was from the 50’s onwards a full hierarchy.

But to many Englishmen it marked yet another disastrous concession to the "Bishop of Rome" and yet another sign that the Church of England, convulsed by the high ritualism and Anglo-Catholicism of the Oxford Movement (St. Martin’s Church was a flag ship for this) and still reeling from the recent conversion to Catholicism of the eminent Anglican theologian, John Henry Newman was in retreat before its old adversary, the Catholic Church. And, of course, we happily sing John Newman’s hymns in the Catholic Church, I thought.

Father McSweeney’s sermon was shorter than usual. He too perhaps has an eye to the nice day and is wanting to have as much free time as possible.

The church seems half empty, perhaps many of the families will have gone off for their summer holidays. The mills tended to give the entire staff their break at the same time, which generally came in late August, but this period in late May was also a popular time for breaks, and many preferred taking their holidays when the masses were not also at Blackpool or wherever they chose to go. We usually go abroad, usually to Brittany, and as we don’t have children or any reason to be tied to school holidays, we prefer to go in early September.

Finally the service ended, and the cabbie has delivered us back home so we can get in some last minute preparations for the party.

The first to arrive were Mrs. Harrison and her daughter, and the whole of the Thornley family. Louise ushered the big family group into the garden, but I kept Hannah to one side. As I shook her hand, I smiled and said, “I hadn’t realised that you, my fellow songbird, lived in our little lane. So pleased that you could come. And is this lovely little girl your daughter? I was only thinking to myself this morning that you don’t look old enough to have a daughter that old.”

She seems as pleased to see me as I am to see her. Rich pickings here perhaps.

I had to let her go out into the garden, as she was soon followed closely by others of our neighbours.

Mr. Dawson was the last to arrive, and I thought he looked very put out at being here at all. He was accompanied by his cousin Mrs. Margaret Hammersley and their lodger, Fred Hodkinson,  Blanche’s brother. I caught him giving a longing look at Hannah. I wonder if anything is going on in that direction. I hope not. He isn’t good enough for the likes of her.

A few had sent apologies, but all in all, I am pleased at the attendance – I counted 20 men, 20 women and 15 children.

As the neighbours arrived, I ushered them around to the back of the house, where the garden was set with chairs, small tables, and blankets on the ground spread under the trees. I suggested to the large families that they might do best on the ground, and they didn’t seem to take affront at the idea. Of course I had provided chairs for the wives who were holding small babies, and could not be expected to get up from the ground as easily as others.

It was about 3.45, when I judged that the time for the reason for the meeting was made clear. I cleared my throat, and stepping out to address the assembled group, said, “Thank you all for graciously taking me up on my invitation this fine afternoon. I know you are all curious as to the reason for the get together, and although I am very pleased to make all of your acquaintance, I am sure you have suspected that that was not the only reason for my asking you here today. There are actually two things I want to put to you, and, as the second involves the help of the children, you will see why I asked you to bring them as well.

“First of all, I know that most, if not all of you, are renters of your properties, as am I – and the landlord of all of this land is the very wealthy and very generous Lord Howard of Glossop. You may or may not know, but it is common knowledge of those who look into these things, and the trend at the moment is for huge land owners, such as Lord Howard, to sell off properties – like yours and mine – so that we ourselves can own where we live.

“I am expecting that most of you had not thought to own your own home – and perhaps you are quite happy to pay rent and not worry about the maintenance problems that owning property no doubt involves. I will tell you honestly, that I am currently paying Lord Howard the rent of £50 a year for my property, which I know to be one of the biggest in the area. So I am expecting yours to be less than that. I have worked out that if I can buy my property from Lord Howard for £500, that as long as I live in more than 10 years, I will have done better than by renting – and as the years go on, I will continue to do better, and when I come to sell, I will have not only saved all that rent, but I will have a capitol sum that I will realise from the sale, which will almost without doubt exceed the price I paid for it.

“So what has this to do with you, you might ask? Well, I know many of you will not have the wherewithal to come up with the money to buy your houses. And I have made an arrangement with a friend of mine, Robert Taylor from Glossop Road, (some of you may know him, he is a money lender,) that I will act as his agent in this regard and offer you loans, if you are interested, to cover the cost of buying your property, at the rate of interest which you will be well able to afford. So what I hope is that after our meeting today, you will think about my offer. If we act as a joint neighbourhood, asking Lord Howard for all these lands at the same time, I think we shall both get them at a reduced rate, and also save on the cost of the conveyancing – in terms of solicitor’s fees. I know you will not be able to make a decision now, but I will leave you all with my card, and I look forward to hearing from you over the next month if you are interested in hearing more about this. I will take questions on this in a moment.

“Now I come to the second half of my reason for inviting you here today. You may or may not know, but my work is to do with importing and exporting goods. I myself am very interested in the money that can be made from very old items, and I mean very old.

“Now, to the best of my knowledge and sources of information, I feel that this road we live on was the main way from Mellor Church – which was a Roman Camp to Melandra Castle at Glossop. And there is also speculation that this route was used long before, in pre-historic times by the Saxons as they travelled from place to place. I also have had information that tells me that the many wells in this area were used as they stopping place along this route.

“I am sure that many of us if not all of us, might have within our fields and gardens, under the soil, items that might well be of interest and value. I am talking about things like coins, Roman coins perhaps, but those from later times would also be of interest. I am talking about pottery which might be broken, but might not, jewellery from olden times which might appear dirty and tarnished, but in terms of its antiquity value, might surprise you.

So I am asking you farmers, as you plough your fields, and you children and women as you dig in your gardens and vegetable patches, to collect anything you might find of interest. I will either buy it from you, or will act as an agent on your behalf to find out what it might be worth, taking a small percentage for my troubles of course.

“So those are my two propositions. Are there any questions?”