by Nancy Carson
The school comprised one classroom, which could be divided into two when needed. A blackboard and easel stood in front of a huge fireplace with a brass fender, a wrought-iron fireguard and a voluminous coal scuttle. The windows were vast and let in plenty of light, but you could not see the road outside because they were set so high in the walls. It was Friday, the boys were hard at work, their chalk sticks squeaking across slates as they wrote. Poppy felt self-conscious that their eyes were following her, however, as she glided across the wooden floor of the classroom to the master’s study, keeping close behind Aunt Phoebe. They exchanged pleasantries and Reverend Browne, who was already acquainted with Aunt Phoebe since she was one of his congregation, invited them to sit down.
‘How old are you, Miss Silk?’ Reverend Browne enquired, peering over his spectacles.
‘Seventeen, sir.’
He wrote it down. ‘Mrs Green, one of our benefactors, has recommended you, Miss Silk. She seems to think you could offer a good and reliable standard of help in our school.’
‘I’m sure I could, sir. I can read and write and do arithmetic.’
‘You would not be required to teach these things, of course, but merely to assist Mr Tromans, our schoolmaster. I am pleased also to have the endorsement of Mrs Newton with whom you reside. I have known you for – what, Mrs Newton? Four years, is it?’
‘Four years it is, Reverend … Tell me, do you still live outside Dudley?’
‘With the express permission of the Bishop, Mrs Newton.’ He put his pen down and leaned back in his chair as if anticipating a lengthy chat. ‘And due, as I’m sure you must be aware, to the insanitary condition of the town.’
‘To my mind, things are improving, Reverend,’ Aunt Phoebe replied, in defence of her home town. ‘At least we have had no cholera epidemic for a number of years.’
‘Indeed, not since eighteen thirty-five. I am often reminded, however, that the graveyard of our beloved St Thomas’s that year was full to overflowing, and the surplus dead of the parish carted to Netherton for burial.’
Aunt Phoebe nodded. ‘Indeed, it was as you say, Reverend.’
Reverend Browne placed his fingertips together as he studied Poppy once more, almost in a gesture of pious prayer, she thought. ‘To return to the matter in hand … Baylies’s Charity School was founded for the purpose of educating boys from poor families, Miss Silk, on the principles of the Christian religion, according to the doctrine and discipline of the United Church of England and Ireland. I take it you attend church regularly?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Poppy confirmed truthfully, though as yet she knew little of the scriptures, and only the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed by heart.
‘Indeed, I have seen you there, come to think of it … I trust you would not be grossly overwhelmed at the prospect of working with so many boys?’
‘Oh, no, sir.’
‘Tell me, are you able to play the harmonium, Miss Silk?’
‘I’m not that good, sir.’
Aunt Phoebe said, ‘Miss Silk has only recently begun piano lessons. But I have every confidence that she will progress quickly.’
‘So what formal education have you had, Miss Silk?’
‘Miss Silk has been having the benefit of private tuition with me for some months, Reverend,’ Aunt Phoebe interjected. ‘Unfortunately, she began her learning late. She has, however, made remarkable progress and would be a valuable asset here, able to help any of the younger pupils.’
‘It is with the younger pupils that we need the extra help, Mrs Newton. A strong academic background is hardly necessary. Merely an ability to read and write, to be trustworthy and reliable, and to understand our Christian discipline.’
‘What hours would Miss Silk be expected to work, Reverend?’
‘From half-past eight in the morning till four o’clock in the afternoon, Mondays to Fridays, and on Saturdays till one.’
Aunt Phoebe pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked first at Poppy, then at Reverend Browne. ‘No, I’m afraid I couldn’t allow her to work such hours, Reverend. Miss Silk is my helpmeet and companion and, with the best will in the world, I could only spare her mornings.’
‘I see,’ the vicar replied, obviously disappointed. He drummed his fingers on the desk in front of him, a pensive look on his face. ‘Such a pity … Look, allow me to bring in Mr Tromans to meet Miss Silk,’ he suggested more brightly. ‘I will discuss with him when you have gone the possibility of employing Miss Silk on mornings only. I will let you know the outcome in due course. I presume you would be free to commence duties straight away, Miss Silk?’
‘Oh, yes, sir.’
He got up from behind the desk and fetched Mr Tromans.
As they walked back to Rowley Road and Cawneybank House – the clarence was not available since Clay was busy greasing the axles – Poppy and Aunt Phoebe discussed the interview. Aunt Phoebe was of the opinion that Reverend Browne considered Poppy suitable for the position and would try and convince the schoolmaster, Mr Tromans, that he could manage with morning help only.
‘That will enable you to continue your learning at home, and still have some time to yourself.’
‘I wouldn’t have dared suggest it, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said. ‘I wouldn’t have even thought about it. Don’t you think it might put them off having me?’
‘I think not, my dear. Having been a teacher for many a long year I am aware of the reality of what is desirable compared to what is possible. It is not uncommon to use pupil teachers in classrooms. All too often it is necessary. For you, so many young boys under one roof could be very tiresome if they are not sufficiently well disciplined. I must say, though, Mr Tromans seemed to keep them on a tight rein. He seemed no fool. If you are offered the position, I’m certain he’ll be fair and respectful towards you.’
They walked on in silence for a while, up the road known as Waddams Pool, with cottages interspersed between factories on both sides, and dotted with dollops of uncleared horse manure. A horse and cart passed on the other side of the road and the carter raised his hat to them with a cheery smile. The sky, however, was like lead and threatened more rain.
‘Maybe we should have taken the omnibus, Poppy.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. A drop of rain won’t hurt us.’
‘I wasn’t thinking so much of the rain as my poor legs.’
‘I remember the men at the railway encampment when they worked in the rain. They always moaned. It made the earth thick with mud and so much heavier to shift, but they shifted it all the same. But the mess they made with their boots after …’
Aunt Phoebe smiled indulgently at her. ‘Those days are gone for you, Poppy, are they not?’
‘Yes, they’re gone, but I don’t ever regret them. I can’t forget them, either. I remember them now with fondness, and the folk who lived and worked there … I wouldn’t want to go back, though. Not when it was always my intention to get out anyhow … I wonder where my poor mother is now, and my sisters and brothers … And Buttercup.’
‘Buttercup,’ Aunt Phoebe mused. ‘I hope some day I might meet this Buttercup. I hope some day I might meet your mother too, and the rest of her children. I wonder what she would say if she saw you now, if she saw the change in you.’
‘She wouldn’t recognise me. Especially not in all these lovely clothes.’
‘Oh, she would. Of course she would. Her own daughter.’
They were passing Tansley House, the home of the Crawfords. It started spitting with rain.
‘Maybe we should knock on the Crawfords’ door and ask if we can shelter from the rain, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said, half-serious.
‘Oh, I think not, Poppy. Tansley House would be my last choice of refuge without an invitation. But you’ll get to see it, no doubt, if you begin to see Bellamy regularly.’
‘I’m not sure that I want to see Bellamy regularly,’ Poppy replied.
‘But such a handsome young man, and with such an assured future. So obviously taken with you. My dear,
what girl of seventeen wouldn’t want to be seeing Bellamy regularly?’
‘This girl.’
‘Oh? And why is this girl so different from others?’
Poppy hesitated to say.
‘Go on … There must be a reason …’
‘Because …’ She blushed vividly. ‘Because this girl’s in love with Robert.’ It was the first time she had admitted it to Aunt Phoebe.
Aunt Phoebe turned to look at Poppy and saw her heightened colour. ‘Ah … Of course, I suspected it, so I’m hardly surprised. But you must know it’s futile, my dear, your holding out any hope of landing Robert.’
‘I’m not sure what futile means, Aunt Phoebe, but if it means it’s a waste of time, then I don’t agree. You see, Robert told me he was in love with me as well. And if he was, then I reckon he still is. I’m still in love with him anyway. Why should it be any different for him?’
‘Are you sure he loves you? This is not just merely some young girl’s fancy, is it?’
‘No, Aunt, he told me. And he meant it. He went to Brazil to get away from that girl he’s engaged to, to get away from both of us, so’s he could make his mind up about us. I know he wouldn’t have married me then – I was just a navvy’s daughter – but he loved me all the same. He had to get away to straighten himself out. I do know how hard it is for him having a fiancée already, with his mother and father pressing him to wed her.’
‘Mmm …’ Aunt Phoebe murmured pensively. ‘There’s a ring of truth in what you tell me. I must say, he gave me no clue when he called to see me before he left, but the fact that he wished me to help you lends it some credence now.’
‘It’s true, Aunt Phoebe. I don’t tell lies.’
‘Then, is it fair that you should be going out with Bellamy on Sunday? After all, you could be giving him entirely the wrong impression, falsely raising his hopes, when it’s his brother you’re really interested in.’
‘Oh, I won’t give him any wrong impressions. I won’t lead him on a bit, I promise. But I do like him. He reminds me of Robert.’
‘As I’ve said before, don’t admit to your having known Robert previously. Now … Tell me, Poppy – and I apologise if this sounds a little indelicate – but were you and Robert ever … ever improper?’
‘You mean did we couple, like man and wife?’
Aunt Phoebe gasped. ‘My goodness! What a way you have of expressing things.’
‘I just say things the way they are, Aunt Phoebe,’ Poppy said unapologetically. ‘Anyway, no. We never did that. Not that we didn’t want to … But we never did.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ The older woman uttered a sigh of relief. ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’
At about the same time that Aunt Phoebe and Poppy were walking home under the steely sky of a drab April noon, Minnie Catchpole was holding a piece of bread on a toasting fork in front of the fire, when she heard a knock at her door. She was not expecting anybody in particular, but it could have been any one of half a dozen men who had taken to spending a couple of shillings for her charms at odd times during daylight. She pulled the bread from the fire and put it unfinished onto the plate that was on the table, then went to answer the door.
‘Oh, it’s you, miss.’
‘Yes, it’s me again, Minnie. Are you going to invite me in?’
‘Yes, come in if you want.’
The visitor looked behind her as if checking to see if anybody was watching, and stepped over the threshold with a basket over her arm.
‘I’ve brought you another loaf of bread and some cheese. I managed to get half a dozen oranges as well, and some bananas. There are few decent apples about at the moment, though.’
‘It’s very kind of you, miss, but there’s no need to go to the trouble. How much do I owe you?’
‘Nothing, Minnie. They are my gift to you.’
The girl was about twenty, maybe twenty-one, with well-tended raven hair under a plain bonnet. She was slim with an elegance that breeding brought, with classic facial features but not pretty. Her expression seemed perpetually serious but, when she did smile, her eyes softened as they lit up and her lips formed an appealing crescent that revealed two ever so slightly crossed front teeth. Her clothes were plain and unfussy, but their fine quality was undeniable.
‘I don’t know as I need any help o’ that sort,’ Minnie answered. ‘Not with fittles at any rate. But it’s kind o’ you all the same. Would yer like a cup o’ tea or summat? I got the fire a-goin’ today, look, so I can boil a kettle. If you hang on a minute, I’ll run to the pump and fill it.’
‘If it’s no trouble, Minnie,’ the girl said, glad of the chance to be detained, for it would prolong the time she could usefully spend with her. ‘Aren’t you going to put a coat on? It’s quite cold outside.’
‘Oh, I’m hardy, miss.’
The young woman sat quietly, taking in the awful ambience and squalor of the little house, while Minnie fetched the water. Soon she returned and hung the filled kettle on a gale hook, its base resting on the hot coals.
‘It’ll soon boil. Would you like a bit o’ cheese on toast, miss? That’s what I was a-doing for me dinner.’
‘Oh, please carry on, Minnie. Don’t let me interrupt you having your meal.’
‘Right … if you got no objection, miss …’ Minnie pierced the half-toasted piece of bread with the fork again and, leaning forward on her chair, resumed holding it in front of the fire. ‘You still reckon I’m a lost soul then, eh?’
‘I don’t believe you are lost yet, Minnie. I don’t believe it’s too late to save you from the precipice you’re swaying over …’ Minnie uttered a little laugh of mockery. ‘You would soon find forgiveness in Christ—’
‘Am yer a Methody, miss?’
‘No, I’m not a Methodist, Minnie … Don’t you ever consider the joy and contentment marriage might bring, Minnie? The love and devotion of one man?’
‘That’s a joke, miss,’ Minnie retorted disparagingly. ‘I can see no man ever giving me love and devotion. Leastwise, not the sort you’m on about. Nor me them either, to tell you the truth.’
‘I think you could be pleasantly surprised. Holy matrimony was ordained not just for the procreation of children, but as a remedy against sin, to avoid fornication, so that those who are not blessed with the gift of continence might keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.’
Minnie turned the piece of bread on the fork to toast the other side. ‘I don’t know about all that, miss. Men am ten-a-penny and I fancy having me share of ’em afore I’m done. I like men, and men like me. Why shouldn’t I enjoy ’em, and make a shilling or two at the same time? Me only power over ’em is when I got ’em danglin’ on a string, wanting me. Once a man gets me in wedlock, then that string’ll be round my neck, but good and proper. Bearin’ kids, cookin’, bakin’, washin’, workin’ – mekin’ nails up some backyard till all hours, an’ all, I shouldn’t wonder. I mek me living by lyin’ on me back, miss. It’s easy work, it comes natural to me and I enjoy it. I don’t see as how marryin’ some chap’s gunna improve my lot.’
It was a long speech for Minnie and the toast was done. She cut a few slices off the lump of cheese that was on the table and placed them methodically on the toast. Then she opened the oven door at the side of the grate and popped the toast inside to melt the cheese.
‘But Minnie, don’t you feel any damnation for your sin?’
Minnie looked candidly at the young woman. ‘Only from you, miss.’
The young woman returned the look with caring, sympathetic eyes. ‘Why don’t you let me help you find repentance in God’s love?’ she beseeched. ‘Would you not prefer the love of God to the arms of Satan? Let me help you find salvation … and faith. I beg you to reach out for Christ, and feel His love for you returned a hundredfold. Rejoice in His absolute redemption of your sins. Follow the guidance of the Good Shepherd, Minnie.’
The girl had a soft persuasive lilt in her voice, but Minnie shook her head
with a serious look on her face. ‘No, miss. It ain’t for me, this church lark—’ Minnie gave the fire a poke and the kettle sighed as the coals beneath it were disturbed. ‘I don’t see as why you should want to bother wi’ me, miss.’
‘You don’t have to call me “miss”. Let us be friends, Minnie. Please call me Virginia.’
‘That your name? Virginia?’
Virginia smiled, her doe eyes exuding a look of gentleness and unending patience. ‘I wouldn’t ask you to call it me if it wasn’t.’
‘You know what it means, don’t ya? Virgin?’ Minnie asked provocatively.
‘Yes.’ She smiled again, a little embarrassed at Minnie’s directness and what she implied. ‘I possibly know more about the name than you, but I understand the point you are trying to make. Virginia was originally a Roman family name, but it has a greater significance now as a reference to our great Queen Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen.’
‘So, am yer a virgin … Virginia? I mean – you know as I ain’t.’
The rich aroma of cheese cooking permeated the room and Virginia breathed it in. It was a warm, homely smell, incongruous in this spartan den of iniquity in which she now sat.
‘I am unmarried, Minnie. But rest assured that I shall remain a virgin until I attain the blessed state of holy matrimony.’
‘You don’t know what you’m missin’, Virginia … You don’t, honest.’
‘No, and I can’t begin to imagine, either, Minnie. I’d rather not even try.’
The kettle was starting to bubble and steam profusely, so Minnie lifted it from the fire, holding the handle with a rag. ‘I’ll mek that tea now.’ She reached into the cupboard at the side of the grate and took out a packet of tea.
