The Doorstep Girls
Page 28
‘To York!’ she said breathlessly. ‘I wanted to go to Scarborough, but Edward said his family’s too well known to go there. They go every year, so we’re going to York instead where he isn’t known.’
‘But – why? How? What about his wife?’
‘She’s visiting friends in ’Yorkshire Dales, so Edward says we can go away for ’weekend. He says he wants to show me things and walk with me and spend a whole day and night without having to rush away home!’
‘Goodness.’ Grace put down her sewing. ‘He really is taken with you, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’ Ruby nodded. ‘I’m afraid he is.’ She held out her wrist. ‘Look what he brought back for me from his honeymoon.’ She was wearing a silver bracelet. ‘He says he’ll get me ’necklace to match when we go to York, he couldn’t buy it before in case May noticed.’
Grace sighed. ‘So what’s ’favour?’
‘Will you watch out for Ma? I’ve asked Mr Blake and given him some money to get her a few things, but I’d feel better if you were watching out for her as well.’ She frowned. ‘I think she’s getting an extra dose of loddy from somebody. She was acting a bit strange ’other day.’
Grace nodded and wondered if she should tell Ruby of her mother’s humiliating arrival home in a handcart one evening. But then she decided against it. ‘I’ll watch out for her,’ she said, ‘but sometimes she goes off and I wouldn’t know where to look for her, except at ’Ship or Tap and Barrel.’
‘I don’t expect you to be her keeper, Grace,’ Ruby reassured her. ‘Ma’s a law unto herself and if owt happened to her, I wouldn’t blame you.’ She bit her lip anxiously. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t go.’
‘Go,’ Grace said. ‘It’ll be wonderful.’ A yearning came into her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t have missed my journey to ’West Riding and Lancashire for anything.’
‘Have you heard from any of them folk you were with? You know, them ladies or anybody?’
‘No. Not from anybody.’ She put her head down. It was very disappointing. She was sure that someone would have written, but no-one had, not even Miss Gregory, and she hadn’t seen Mr Newmarch’s carriage either, even though she had passed the mill a few times.
‘You haven’t found any work yet?’ It was a question put hesitantly.
She shook her head. That was why she was sewing. It was a last resort.
‘I – erm.’ Ruby hesitated. Grace was so proud.
‘Don’t think of it!’ Grace said quickly. ‘I don’t want your money. Save it. You never know when you might need it.’
‘Yes.’ Ruby sighed. ‘I’m saving up for Freddie. I’ve nearly got ’ten shillings Ma sold him for, but I know ’agent will want more than that, so as soon as I have a bit extra, I’ll go and see him.’
‘Wouldn’t Mr Newmarch give you the money if you asked? Instead of buying you presents, I mean?’
‘I haven’t asked him,’ she said. ‘He never asks me about anybody belonging me. I don’t think he would be interested. But he doesn’t tell me about his family either.’
‘You could try. If he wants to please you!’
Ruby smiled a little sadly. ‘He’s more interested in pleasing himself.’ She pondered. ‘But yes, perhaps whilst we’re away I could ask him then.’
After she had gone, Grace picked up her sewing. Her fingers were sore for the canvas was stiff. She was making sails for the wooden ship which Daniel had given her for firewood. ‘I’ll have to ask Da which way to hang them,’ she murmured. ‘Then a final polish on the hull and it’s ready.’ She leant down and searched amongst a pile of pieces of cotton on the floor, then picked up one of the faceless peg dolls and proceeded to fashion a dress for it, topping it with a velvet shoulder cape.
Her mother came in whilst she was busy and Grace smiled up at her. ‘Look,’ she said, holding up the doll. ‘Isn’t she elegant?’
Her mother took it from her. ‘You’ll have to paint a big smile on her face. Where did you get ’fabric?’
‘Rena’s. I was passing and went in and asked her if she had any scraps she didn’t want. She gave me a bag full and when I said I hadn’t any money, she said I could pay her a penny for it when my ship came in.’
She picked up the sailing ship and fondly stroked it. ‘And this is it,’ she said softly. ‘Here’s my fortune.’
Her mother took off her shawl. ‘Come on,’ she said determinedly. ‘Pass me a doll. I’ll help you. Where are you going to sell them? Market Place?’
Grace nodded. ‘Yes. I noticed when I was there last Saturday that there were quite a few families there. Some of them looked as if they might have a bit of money to spare for a toy for their bairns. So I’ll go on Saturday. I just hope that it stays fine.’
The day was fine, bright and sunny, and Grace carried her stool to sit on and a tray to display her goods, which were carefully wrapped inside a cotton bag. As well as the dolls, she had made cotton and velvet hair bows, a patchwork bag and, with a piece of fur which she had found amongst the other materials, she had fashioned a child’s muff. There was also a piece of lace which she had edged neatly and made into a collar.
She chose a place outside a grocer’s shop opposite the Holy Trinity Church, where most of the market traders pitched their stalls. The grocer employed a man to call out to passers-by to buy guaranteed produce from him, rather than the market stallholders. Grace had noticed previously that he had a rich humorous patter, and people often stopped to listen, even though not always to buy, for the stall traders carried varied goods, many from abroad, which drew the crowds away from the regular shops.
She set out her tray with the dolls, the lace collar and the hair bows, and was amazed to find a small crowd quickly gathering. ‘How much for this?’ A man picked up a peg doll dressed in blue cotton.
‘Six pence,’ she said promptly.
‘I’ll have it,’ he said, and picked up another in red velvet. ‘Is this ’same price?’
‘Ninepence for that one, ’material’s more costly.’ She put up the price as he hadn’t hesitated over the first doll.
He took the two and she was jubilant. One shilling and threepence and she had only been trading for ten minutes.
A woman with two little girls bought bows for their hair, and asked the price of the fur muff and did she have two. ‘I can get another for next week,’ Grace said eagerly. ‘They’re one shilling and sixpence each.’
The woman declined to buy at that price, but Grace didn’t reduce it; she was convinced that someone else would buy it. They did, and the lace collar too.
The tray was slowly emptying and she replaced the sold goods with others from the bag, and brought out the sailing ship. Her father had tied the sails to the mast and made lines and rigging with strands of cotton. She held it in her hand and sighed. She was reluctant to sell it, it was such a work of craftsmanship. But then recalling that Daniel had left it to be burnt and had no fondness for it, she decided that being the person he was, he wouldn’t mind at all if she sold it in order to live.
Someone loomed over her. A gentleman, holding a small boy by the hand. He smiled. ‘Good morning, Miss Sheppard,’ he said pleasantly and tipped his hat. ‘That’s a very fine vessel.’
‘Good morning, Mr Emerson.’ She was extremely surprised to see him, but couldn’t get up to greet him as she had the tray on her knee. She would never have expected to see him here. She would not have thought he would frequent somewhere like the Market Place.
‘This is my grandson, Charles,’ he said. ‘Say good morning to Miss Sheppard, Charles.’
The child did, very politely, touching his hat as his grandfather had done.
‘Charles is my eldest son’s child,’ Mr Emerson thought fit to inform her. ‘He’s on a visit here and he and I are having a little trot around the Market Place. We like to see what’s going on, buy a few trinkets.’ He smiled benevolently at the little boy and Grace guessed that he indulged him.
‘May I look at the ship?’ He held out his hand and Grace pa
ssed it to him. ‘Beautiful!’ he said. ‘Perfectly made.’
‘It is, sir,’ she agreed. ‘It was crafted by a friend of mine.’
‘He has a real talent.’ He turned it this way and that as he examined it. ‘How much is he asking for it?’
She hesitated. She didn’t know its worth. ‘My friend didn’t put a price on it, sir. Would five shillings seem excessive?’
‘Five shillings!’ He semed astonished and she thought she had asked too much. ‘My dear Miss Sheppard. You are asking far too little. I would certainly give you half a sovereign for such a ship, but you may possibly get more if you tried.’
‘Oh!’ She was flabbergasted. More than half a sovereign! But then she considered. It would be nice to know where the ship had gone. She saw the little boy handle it carefully and look at his grandfather with eager eyes. Would Mr Emerson buy it for him or himself? ‘I would be happy to let you have it for the amount you offer, Mr Emerson.’
He nodded. ‘Then we’ll settle.’ He looked down at Charles. ‘It shall be yours, Charles. But we will keep it at my home until you are a little older. It is too good to be a simple plaything which might get broken.’
The boy seemed disappointed, but his grandfather, examining the ship again, murmured, ‘But I think it will sail, and so when I next visit you I’ll bring it and we will try it on your father’s pond,’ at which Charles beamed and nodded his head.
They completed the transaction and Grace asked tentatively, ‘Is Miss Emerson well?’
‘Daisy! Oh dear yes, in excellent spirits.’ He leant towards her. ‘It seems that she is in love,’ he whispered. ‘Some young parson fellow she met in Oldham, he’s asked permission to call.’
‘Oh!’ Grace did remember a clergyman speaking to Miss Emerson, but nothing pertinent was mentioned as far as she could remember. She murmured pleasantries and then asked, ‘And Miss Gregory, have you heard if she is well?’
He gave a small frown. ‘I believe she is away visiting at present with her cousin. Has no-one been in touch with you, Miss Sheppard? Has there been no communication of the results of your tour?’
No, she told him, but she really hadn’t expected to hear anything.
He tutted and muttered that it was most reprehensible of Daisy. ‘And so you will not have heard either that Mr Newmarch has been very ill?’
She clasped her hand to her throat. ‘Oh! No,’ she said in alarm. ‘I had not. I’m so sorry. Is he – is he making a good recovery?’
‘Slow. He has had a very bad fever. At first it was thought to be cholera, but fortunately it turned out not to be so, but nevertheless he has been very ill and I heard only yesterday that his father had also contracted a similar complaint and is very ill indeed.’
‘How very worrying,’ she said anxiously. ‘I’m so sorry. If you should see Mr Newmarch, perhaps – would you be kind enough to pass on my good wishes for a return to health?’
He gave her a sudden smile. ‘Of course I will, he will be most pleased to receive them. He holds you in high esteem, Miss Sheppard.’
‘Does he?’ she said in surprise.
‘Indeed he does.’ He tapped his finger on his mouth as if contemplating. ‘I do beg your pardon, and I mustn’t keep you from your business, but,’ he weaved his hand towards her tray and the goods on it, ‘do you do this regularly? I haven’t seen you here before.’
‘This is ’first time, sir,’ she confessed and a blush suffused her pale cheeks.
‘Forgive me if I am impertinent.’ He gazed at her intently. ‘But do I assume that you have not obtained work since your return from the tour?’
‘I haven’t, sir. There isn’t much work about.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘The mill won’t have me and word seems to have got about to other factories that I’m an agitator. As soon as I give my name it seems that they have a full quota of workers!’
He shook his head in dismay. ‘I’m so very sorry. You must be feeling very let down?’
His eyes were full of concern for her plight, but she replied, ‘I’m not sorry that I went, Mr Emerson, please don’t think that I am, and Miss Morris said to me that I might think that what we were fighting for might never come.’
She tried to hide a sigh. She felt very tired and listless and had quite often wondered if she had done the right thing in giving up her work to fight for what seemed to be a worthy cause. ‘She said that we had to believe in what we were doing,’ she told Mr Emerson. But it is hard to believe in principles, she thought, when hunger is knocking on your door.
He nodded gravely and took his leave of her and without knowing why, she felt sad to see him go. He’s such a very kind man, she thought, and most considerate. The sort of gentleman who would be a good friend to his fellows.
She packed up in the afternoon for she had sold practically all of her goods, and went into the grocer’s to buy tea with some of the money she had earned. ‘Well, young lady,’ the grocer said as he weighed out the leaves into a paper bag. ‘Have you had a good day?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, thank you, and thank you for letting me sit by your window.’
‘That’s all right,’ he grinned. ‘As long as you don’t start selling butter or cheese on my doorstep, I shan’t mind. Here.’ He cut some cheese with a knife. ‘Try that.’
She popped the thin slice into her mouth and immediately her taste buds started to tingle and her dry mouth to salivate. ‘It’s delicious,’ she said weakly. ‘I wish I could afford to buy some.’
‘You’ve just sold that ship,’ he said. ‘You must have made some money on that?’
‘Yes.’ She felt a rush of relief and suddenly rather tearful. ‘Now we can pay ’rent for next couple of weeks.’
She walked slowly home. She really was so very tired, her legs ached and as she swapped her stool from one hand to the other she saw how thin and white her fingers were. Her mother had been making broth every day, but the ingredients were getting less and less and recently had consisted only of onions and potato with occasionally a carrot or handful of barley. Turnips, which were usually very cheap, were not in season as summer was coming on fast. Grace and her mother took only the broth and gave the vegetables to her father, who was the only one working and needed the strength.
‘Here, Ma.’ She managed a smile as she went in the house and handed over the bag of tea and the money she had earned. ‘Let’s celebrate our success and have a cup of tea.’
The expression on her mother’s face was reward enough, though Grace thought she looked rather tearful. She put the kettle on the fire and took off her shawl, and it was only as she turned around that she noticed that the room seemed bigger, only it wasn’t of course bigger, but emptier.
‘Table!’ she said in astonishment. ‘Where’s the table?’
‘Pawned it,’ her mother muttered. ‘We haven’t had a bit o’ bread to eat all ’week. I’m sick to death of damned broth which is nowt but hot water.’ She put her hand over her eyes and Grace was dismayed – her mother was always such a pillar of strength and fortitude. ‘So I’ve pawned it,’ she said in a choked voice. ‘I borrowed a handcart and pushed it round to ’pawnbrokers. He gave me two shillings for it and I’ve bought bread and cheese and potatoes and beans.’
‘I’ll get it back.’ Grace hastily reached for her shawl again. ‘You make ’tea and I’ll run round now and pay him. What’ll Da say!’ She burst into tears. ‘Ma! What sort of life is this? What was all that talk about? Those high ideals? Those equal rights for everyone? What a waste of time and energy!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Bob Sheppard came in to find his wife and daughter in tears. ‘It’s onny a table,’ he roared, on finding out the reason for the weeping.
‘It’s not just the table, Da,’ Grace sobbed. ‘It’s having to get rid of it in order to eat that’s wrong!’
‘Aye, I know, lass.’ He sat down on his chair. ‘It’s a good job it wasn’t my chair that’d gone to ’knocking shop, or I should have had summat to say.’
‘I’ve summat to tell you,’ he muttered, as Lizzie made the tea. ‘Hanson was sent for this morning. They fished a woman out of ’Humber.’
They both looked up at him, dismay on their faces. ‘Aye,’ he nodded at their unspoken question. ‘It was her. Mrs Hanson.’
‘How did he tek it?’ Lizzie asked in a low voice.
Bob shrugged. ‘Said he’d been expecting it. She’d threatened him she’d do it one day if he didn’t get a job.’
‘And now he has got a job and she’s not here to see it,’ Lizzie murmured. ‘What a life!’
They did a reckoning as they sat, subdued and barely speaking as they sipped their tea, and decided that with the money raised from the little sailing ship they could pay the rent for the next three weeks. ‘That means that with what’s left of Grace’s money you can fetch ’table back, Lizzie, and with my wages we can buy some food, and even a jug of ale.’ Bob Sheppard had taken charge when he realized how demoralized his wife and daughter were.
Grace was putting on her shawl again to slip round to the pawnbrokers with the two shillings, when someone knocked on the door. A man in baggy cotton trousers, a navy blue reefer jacket and with a bag over his shoulder, stood on the doorstep. ‘Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but I’m lookin’ for Bessie Robson or her relations.’
‘I’ll take you,’ Grace said. ‘She lives further along.’
‘Ah, but I’ve been there, somebody directed me, but there’s nobody in. I can’t make anybody hear.’
‘We’ll go back,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t always answer ’door.’ And, she thought, the Blakes will have barricaded themselves in, in case the rent man calls. She banged on Bessie’s door and called her name, and looked through the window, but she wasn’t there, although a fire burned in the grate.
Then she called out for Mr Blake, saying, ‘It’s onny me, Mr Blake. Grace Sheppard.’