The Doorstep Girls

by Valerie Wood

  They departed that evening from the Rogersons’ house. Both Mrs Rogerson and her husband were very warm and civil towards Grace and invited her to stay with them again, should she be in the area.

  They travelled all of that week in the West Riding of Yorkshire, visiting large towns such as Bradford, Barnsley and Huddersfield and other smaller towns and villages. Although the crowds were not as great as at Wakefield, the meetings being held during evenings, the response was very good and Grace became more confident.

  ‘Tomorrow we move off into Lancashire,’ Miss Gregory said to Grace after the Friday evening meeting in Halifax. ‘A very long journey indeed to Preston, and I fear we will all be tired by Sunday. But it is particularly important that we visit that town.’

  Some of the other ladies had left them to go their separate ways, but they were expecting to be joined by others once they reached Lancashire.

  ‘Mrs Westwood and I will not be speaking in Preston, Grace,’ Miss Gregory told her on their journey. ‘You will be the only speaker from our group.’

  ‘Oh!’ Grace said. ‘Why is that?’

  ‘You will see, once we arrive, that the workers there have more pressing concerns than women’s rights,’ she explained. ‘I haven’t been there but I have read of the conditions in which the workers live.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Can you imagine that whole families often live in one room and have to share a tap and privy with their neighbours!’

  Grace gazed at her and would have smiled if she hadn’t been so weary. I am not the only one to be in ignorance, she thought. These women know nothing. They have read of conditions but have not seen as I have seen or lived as I have lived. Mr Newmarch knows. When I took him to the Groves I could see that he was shocked. So why are we preaching to the workers? They know of their deprivations. It is the men in power who should be made aware of the poverty. Or do they know already and do nothing about it? And am I the one to remind them?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  There was a feeling of unrest and disquiet in the town of Preston. Groups of workers were on strike over low pay and poor working conditions. Many were having meetings of their own, and, although the audience which came to hear Grace and the other speakers at various venues throughout the week was attentive, Grace felt that she was ineffective. Instead of telling them about her own working life she exhorted them to petition Parliament to act on the 1842 Report into Sanitary Conditions which was not yet being dealt with.

  She had known nothing of this Act until one of the male speakers had taken her on one side, told her of its existence and asked her to mention it in her speech. ‘I speak from experience, as many of you do,’ she told the crowd. ‘I live in a court of twelve houses with two rooms in each house and a family in each room. One privy and one water pump has to serve us all. We all know of ’night-soil men who come into our houses, we know of ’stinking muckgarths which explode every summer. And we know of children and adults who fall sick with disease because of it. We know of ’cholera which plagued our towns last summer and will do ’same this year.

  ‘Tell ’local Medical Board of our plight. Tell the newspapers. Tell ’Members of Parliament. Bombard them with information on how we live. Do it now!’

  She was flushed and excited when she had finished and as she stepped down from the platform, she was astonished to see Martin Newmarch sitting at the front of the hall next to Miss Gregory. He rose to his feet as she came to a stop in front of him.

  ‘Miss Sheppard,’ he bowed. ‘Many congratulations. Such fervour. You certainly aroused your audience,’ and it was true, for she had been given a standing ovation.

  ‘She is known as Miss Grace now,’ Miss Gregory interrupted. ‘After Wakefield,’ she smiled. ‘The name seems to suit.’

  ‘I have read of it,’ Martin replied. ‘There was an account of your speech in the Packet.’

  ‘In the Packet?’ Grace was astonished that the Hull newspaper should know of their meetings.

  ‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘You are in the news at the moment – Miss Grace,’ he added, his eyes crinkling with humour.

  She was embarrassed. She hadn’t wanted this. Yet perhaps it would do some good, make some changes for the better.

  ‘Will you excuse me for a moment,’ Miss Gregory said. ‘I need to speak to Mrs Westwood before we go.’

  Grace raised her eyebrows. Before we go where? ‘Are you here for ’rest of ’week, Mr Newmarch?’ she asked as they made their way to the back of the hall where free refreshments were being served. ‘We’re here for two more days before moving on to Bolton and Oldham and then returning home.’

  ‘No,’ he said, and his gaze on her face seemed very piercing. ‘Regretfully not. I have come only to escort Miss Gregory to her home. She is to attend her cousin’s wedding to my brother next week and a carriage journey seemed to be the quickest option, rather than the train or waterway.

  ‘Mrs Westwood is also returning,’ he added. ‘I have brought her news of a crisis at home.’

  He must be very fond of Miss Gregory to come all this way in order to escort her, she pondered. I wonder if they are promised to each other?

  ‘I have come as a favour to Miss May Gregory,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘Georgiana will of course be almost related after the wedding, but I must confess’, again his eyes sought hers, ‘that I was curious as to how you – er, how the tour was progressing.’

  ‘Very well, I think,’ she replied. ‘But ’workers of Lancashire have many difficulties which will take a long time to overcome, and,’ she shook her head, ‘nothing that I can say will help them.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ he interrupted quickly and clutched her arm. ‘Many voices are needed, and yours is as effective as any.’

  She gazed frankly at him, and he dropped his hand. ‘And what of your voice, Mr Newmarch?’ she asked quietly. ‘What do you have to say on these issues?’

  ‘I do what I can.’ He was hesitant in his reply. ‘But my position at the mill makes it difficult to take sides.’ He glanced around the room as if searching for a plausible answer. ‘I try to put the workers’ point of view to the management.’

  She nodded, but felt disappointed that he wasn’t willing to stand up on a platform and speak against poor working standards.

  He must have seen the cast-down expression on her face or else felt the dissatisfaction and taken it as failure on his part, for he repeated in an urgent manner, ‘I assure you, I do what I can!’

  Miss Gregory and Mrs Westwood returned to them, and Mrs Westwood told Grace how sorry she was that she couldn’t continue with the tour. ‘But I must return home. It is most important that I do.’ She appeared to be very distressed.

  ‘There will be just you and Miss Emerson to represent us now,’ Miss Gregory said, and Grace wondered at that, as Miss Emerson hadn’t taken part in any of the speech-making, but had merely accompanied them and taken notes. ‘But you will of course be escorted all the way.’

  ‘If women want their rights and freedom, Miss Gregory,’ Grace said thoughtfully, ‘doesn’t that mean that they should be free to travel alone without a gentleman to escort them?’ She had wondered about this often whilst travelling, for every step of the way they had had a male escort, and it had seemed to her that it was often quite unnecessary.

  Miss Gregory laughed. ‘I often travel alone in a chaise around Hull, but I wouldn’t venture any further on my own. I can’t imagine, Grace, that that day will ever come!’

  ‘I beg your pardon, but I believe you are entirely wrong in that observation, Miss Gregory,’ Martin Newmarch broke in. ‘There will be – are – women who are quite independent,’ and, as he glanced at each of them in turn, Grace knew that he was speaking of her. ‘There will be women who have the strength of spirit to be self-reliant and liberated, and they will not need an Act of Parliament to grant them that freedom.’

  Lizzie Sheppard pushed open her door and staggered into their room. She was doing her best to keep back tears. Tears of
frustration, anger, and pain. She eased herself onto the bed and gingerly lay down. ‘Oh!’ She closed her eyes and grimaced. ‘Oh! Dear God! What are we going to do? I’m finished. I can’t go on!’

  All day she had battled with the pain in her back and it had taken her twice as long as usual to do the waashing. The housekeeper and cook at the house she had been at were anxious for her to finish and leave, so that they could clear up after her and get on with their own chores. Usually there was nothing for them to do, as she was a clean worker and left everything as she had found it. But today she couldn’t bend to wipe up the spilt water from the floor, and the cook had told her to go home and the scullery maid would do it.

  ‘It’s no good, Lizzie,’ she had said. ‘You’re going to have to look for other work and we’re going to have to find another washerwoman.’

  Lizzie reluctantly agreed and had made her painful way home. ‘All that soaking and scrubbing, rinsing and wringing, it’s finished me,’ she grieved, as she lay on her bed. ‘But what else can I do? I wish Grace was here to make me a cup o’ tea. No. No, I don’t! She’s doing some good, I’ll be bound. Why should she waste her life here as I’ve wasted mine? I could have done more, me and Bob both, but we’ve been worn down with ’daily grind of making ends meet. Keeping ’wolf from gate.’

  Someone hammered on the door and she shouted to come in. ‘It’s onny me, Aunt Lizzie.’ Ruby put her head round the door. ‘Are you poorly?’

  ‘Aye,’ she said wearily. ‘My back’s gone again. I’ve had to come home.’

  ‘Shall I make you a cup o’ tea?’

  She shook her head. ‘There’s no fire and there’s onny a scraping o’ leaves left. I’ll wait ’till suppertime.’

  ‘I’ve got some,’ Ruby said eagerly. ‘I bought Ma a kettle and a teapot and a bag of tea. I’ll go and make you some.’

  Ill-gotten gains, Lizzie thought as Ruby disappeared out of the door again, but beggars can’t be choosers and I suppose ’lass wants to pay back what we’ve given her over the years. She hadn’t seen much of Ruby since she had chosen a new way of life and Grace hadn’t spoken about her much, knowing that her father disapproved.

  She came back in five minutes with a pot of tea, milk in a cup and a biscuit. ‘Kettle was already on ’fire,’ she beamed, ’so it didn’t take long. I don’t know where Ma is. It’s just as well I came when I did cos ’kettle would have boiled dry. I don’t suppose you’ve seen her?’

  Lizzie gingerly pulled herself up on the bed. ‘No. I haven’t. I’m allus out early in a morning.’ She sniffed. ‘Long afore she’s out of bed!’

  Ruby bit her lip. She knew that there was no love lost between the two women, though she didn’t know why. ‘Gone for her dose of loddy I expect,’ she said diffidently.

  She poured the tea and handed it to Lizzie, who thanked her gratefully. ‘That’s a lifesaver, Ruby. By, that’s a good strong cup.’

  Ruby nodded. She’d put in an extra few leaves as a treat. ‘I don’t suppose you know when Grace is coming back?’ she asked.

  Lizzie blew on the hot liquid. ‘Another couple o’ weeks, I think. She wasn’t sure herself how long they’d be. Did you want her for owt special?’

  Ruby shrugged. ‘I’m lonely when she’s not here,’ she admitted. ‘I miss her. I’ve nobody to talk to.’

  ‘Aye, I miss her too,’ Lizzie said. ‘And I keep wondering what she’s up to.’

  ‘I’ll make you a fire, shall I?’ Ruby offered and looked round for the firewood. ‘You’ve no coal?’

  ‘No, onny wood, but there’s plenty of that now that Mr Sheppard’s at ’woodyard.’

  Ruby delved into the sack which she thought contained firewood. ‘This is not for burning!’ she said, bringing out the wooden ship. ‘This must be Daniel’s. Oh, it’s beautiful!’ She ran her fingers over the hull. ‘We should make some sails.’

  ‘That’s what Grace said. She said she’d beg a bit o’ canvas from ’sail maker. ’Firewood’s in ’other sack.’

  Lizzie dozed on the bed after Ruby had gone and was woken briefly by a sound of shouting outside, but then drifted off to sleep again. She was woken a second time when her husband came in. He expressed surprise at her being in bed.

  ‘There’s no supper ready,’ she said. ‘Feel in my apron pocket for some money and go and fetch a meat pie from ’baker’s.’

  ‘Are you badly again?’ He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her. ‘Will you be at work in ’morning?’

  ‘No. I can’t do it any more. And they’ll not want me, I’m too slow. I’ll find summat else to do.’

  ‘Like what?’ Bob got to his feet. ‘There’s nowt else you can do. You managed to mek ’fire anyway.’

  ‘Ruby made it for me,’ she said. ‘And a pot o’ tea.’

  He grunted disparagingly. ‘What did she want?’

  ‘Onny to talk to Grace. Wanted to know when she was coming back.’

  His face tightened. ‘I don’t want our Grace mixing wi’ ’likes of her.’

  ‘Don’t be such a hypocrite, Bob Sheppard,’ she hissed. ‘Now get your coat back on and fetch that pie or there’ll be nowt to eat tonight.’

  Later, as they finished their supper in silence, they heard the sound of shouting in the court. ‘Have a look through ’window,’ Lizzie said. ‘I heard a row going on earlier this afternoon.’

  ‘It’s Hanson,’ he said, peering through the glass. ‘Looks like ’bailiffs have come. They’ve taken a table out at any rate.’

  ‘Can’t have paid his rent then?’ Lizzie shuddered. ‘It’s ’one thing I dread, being turned out into ’street.’

  ‘He’s coming across. Shall I let him in?’

  ‘Aye, you’d better.’

  ‘They’ve tekken me table.’ Tom Hanson was distraught. ‘I made that afore we was wed. I promised I’d pay arrears now I was in work but they wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘No, well, they wouldn’t,’ Lizzie said. ‘They’ll get a deal o’ money for a table like that.’

  ‘That they will, it’s solid mahogany.’ He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t know what Mrs Hanson will say.’

  ‘You think she’ll come back then, do you?’ Lizzie said bluntly.

  He folded his arms across his chest and bent his head. ‘Well. No. I don’t think she will, to be honest. She said once that if ever she left she wouldn’t come back.’

  ‘So where do you think she’s gone?’ Bob Sheppard asked.

  Tom Hanson pursed his lips and stared into the fire. ‘To ’bottom of ’river, I shouldn’t wonder. She was allus a dowly woman – given to melancholy, you know. She couldn’t cope wi’ being poor.’ He sighed. ‘I can’t afford to keep ’house on, not on a labourer’s wages.’ He looked up at the two of them, who were watching him closely. ‘There’s both of you bringing money in, and your lass, so I expect you can just manage. But I can’t, not on my own, and, besides, I’m no cook, I can’t feed myself. Never done it, you see. So I’ll have to find some cheap lodgings.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Lizzie said, indicating Grace’s stool. Bob was in his usual chair and she was sitting on the bed. ‘Listen to what I have to say.’

  She outlined her dilemma, of her back and not being able to work as a washerwoman any more. He started to say he was sorry to hear that, but she stopped him. ‘Our Grace is away at ’minute, so we don’t have her wages, and when she comes back she won’t have any work.’

  She glanced at her husband. ‘I don’t know if this will work out or even if you’ll agree, but ’way I see it, we’ve got a house here which will take another person living in. I’ll be able to find work of some kind and I can still cook, as long as I’ve a fire. And I can keep ’house clean, provided I’m careful. What I suggest is, that you give up your house and come here to live with us. Share ’rent and give me summat for your board. You can bring your own bed and chair, and sell what you don’t need. If we don’t get on, then you can move out and find other lodgings.’ She looked at them both. ‘
What do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her husband spoke first. ‘We’ve never had anybody living with us afore. What about privacy?’

  ‘We can rig up a curtain in ’corner and put ’other bed there.’ Lizzie was ever practical and that was the first thing she had thought of. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘I don’t think we can afford privacy any more.’

  ‘Well, it sounds all right to me,’ Hanson said. ‘Bailiffs said they’d be back for other furniture next week, so I have to make my mind up. Yes,’ he declared eagerly. ‘If you’re agreeable, Bob. We get on well enough at ’yard.’

  So it was settled. He and Bob brought over his bed and bedding and two chairs, and Lizzie looked over Mrs Hanson’s saucepans to see if they were better than hers, which they were, so he brought those too. ‘See if you can sell ’rest of stuff in ’market tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘Then there’ll be nowt left for bailiffs when they come.’

  Bob shook his head and tried not to listen. He’d always been honest, but it seemed that the time had come when they couldn’t afford honesty either.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ruby dawdled back to Wright Street. She hadn’t seen her mother, but she had left a box of groceries so that she would know that she had visited. I wish Grace was back, she pondered miserably. It’s all very well having money in your purse but if there are no friends to talk to or have a laugh with, well, what’s the point of anything?

  She didn’t think that Edward would come that evening. He had called at midday to see her, but hadn’t stayed long. He seemed rather jittery and had paced about the room, but his passion was as fervent as ever and he had held her tightly and vowed that he would never let her go.

  But when she turned into Wright Street, she saw a hansom cab outside the door of the house and knew that it would be him.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded, greeting her from the top of the stairs. ‘I’ve been here half an hour!’