A Woman of Substance

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  The Kallinskis beamed and Janessa leapt up, gliding to the stove to attend to the boiling pans. She spoke to Emma as she peeped at their contents. ‘You have not eaten Jewish food before, I think, but you will like it.’ She turned, the pan lid in her hand, and nodded positively. ‘Yes, I know you will enjoy it. First we will have the chicken soup with matzo balls—those are similar to Yorkshire dumplings but smaller—and then a crisply roasted chicken all golden brown and moist, with carrots and other vegetables from the soup. We will finish with honey cakes and lemon tea. Yes, it is good, you will see—’ Janessa stopped midsentence and swung around. The door had opened, and her face lit up with pleasure and pride as her two sons entered the house. Seeing Emma seated near the fireplace, they both paused and looked at her with interest and considerable surprise.

  ‘David! Victor! Come, meet our guest. An honoured guest, for she helped your father out of trouble in the most admirable way today. A fine girl,’ said Janessa, plopping the lid back on to the pan. She wiped her hands on a tea towel and hurried over to her two sons, drawing them into the room. ‘Come along, boys, this is Emma Harte. Mrs Harte.’ She led them to Emma, her face radiant. ‘This is David,’ she said, introducing the taller boy, ‘and this is Victor.’ The Kallinski boys shook hands with Emma, extended their greetings, and thanked her for coming to their father’s aid. They crossed the room to the sofa and sat down together.

  It was David who addressed Abraham, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the ugly black-and-blue bruise now most obvious on his father’s cheek, which was puffy and swollen. ‘What happened, Father?’ he asked quietly and with deference, but there was a fierce glint in his eyes and he was striving to control his flaring anger. He knew it was the work of the Jewbaiters again.

  Slowly Abraham explained about the incident, not leaving out the minutest detail and extolling Emma’s brave participation in the matter in the most glowing terms. As he spoke, Emma looked at the boys with growing interest, endeavouring to evaluate them.

  David and Victor Kallinski were as different in every way as two brothers could be. David, who was the elder at nineteen, was tall like his mother and well built. He had been blessed with her lovely blue eyes, although his were much deeper in tone and his face, handsome and open, had a suggestion of her Slavic bone structure in its width and overall shape. He had the same head of black wavy hair his father’s had once been and he had also inherited the older man’s outward-going manner, yet essentially David Kallinski was even more gregarious, vital, and energetic than Abraham. David was a mover, a doer, ambitious, clever and driven. If there was a faint hint of cynicism in his alert blue eyes it was somewhat counteracted by the generosity of his wide mouth and his friendly demeanour. David was intelligent, intuitive, and excessively motivated towards one goal: success. And, as he knew only too well the true nature of man, he therefore lived by one rule and one rule alone—the survival of the fittest. He not only intended to survive, but to survive in style and with wealth.

  Victor, who was sixteen, was small, almost birdlike, and in this he resembled his father to some extent. He had his mother’s straight shiny black hair, but otherwise he did not appear to physically favour either of them. His large eyes were soft and hazel in colour and his face was smooth and bland without any emphatic features, but he was pleasant-looking. His sober face mirrored his character, for Victor Kallinski was a gentle and reflective boy; and in one way his temperament was similar to his father’s, in that Victor had, as did Abraham, a great forbearance and a deep understanding of human frailties, an understanding that was mature and remarkable in one so young. He was a thinker and a dreamer, and he had the soul of a poet. Victor was happiest when he was alone reading, or gazing at great paintings in the museum, or listening to the music of Mahler and Beethoven. He was reserved of nature to a point of shyness and not given to conversing easily with anyone, especially strangers. Victor was looking at Emma surreptitiously from under his long dark lashes, a quiet smile playing around his mouth, thinking what a compassionate girl she must be, and how her actions today only reinforced his inherent belief that essentially mankind was good. Like his father, Victor was utterly without bitterness.

  David, the bolder and more self-assured of the two brothers, spoke to Emma first. ‘That was very spunky of you, to stand up to those boys and help my father. And you’re not even Jewish, are you?’ he commented with his usual forthrightness. His piercing blue eyes swept over her in a quick, all-encompassing inspection and he was impressed with the image she made, sitting there in the chair, her hands calmly folded in her lap.

  ‘No, I am not Jewish,’ said Emma. ‘But I fail to see what difference that makes. I would help anyone in distress, and certainly somebody being assaulted the way your father was.’

  David nodded. ‘Not many people would, though,’ he remarked succinctly, wondering what a refined girl was doing in the neighbourhood anyway. He opened his mouth to ask, when Janessa said, ‘Mrs Harte, come and wash your hands, before the boys clean up, and then we will eat. It is almost sundown.’ Janessa swept across the floor and set another place for Emma at the table, hovering near it until Emma and then the boys had completed their toilets.

  They all stood around the large table, which was beautifully arranged, the four Kallinskis and Emma. ‘Mother will bless the candles first,’ David whispered. Emma stood perfectly still and watched and listened carefully, taking everything in. Janessa lit the two white candles and murmured a prayer over them in a strange language Emma did not understand, then they all sat down, David courteously pulling the chair out for Emma, Victor for his mother. Noting that all of the Kallinskis were bowing their heads, Emma followed suit. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Abraham bless the red wine in a small cup, again in that curious foreign tongue which she did not know was Hebrew. He took a sip of the wine and said another prayer over the twisted loaf of bread she herself had rescued from the street.

  ‘Father just recited the kiddush and now we can eat, after the breaking of the bread,’ David further informed her. The bread was broken by Abraham Kallinski and passed around, and Janessa brought steaming bowls of soup to the table that smelled delicious, and so the meal commenced. As she ate, Emma became aware of the harmony and immeasurable love that existed in this family. She began to relax, for the atmosphere was warm and congenial and she was made to feel so at ease and so welcome she was overwhelmed with gratitude at one moment, and her throat thickened with unexpected emotion. And she kept thinking: Why are the Jews hated? They are loving and gentle people and kind and considerate. It is despicable the way they are treated. And this was the way Emma Harte was to feel all of her life, staunchly defending her Jewish friends, constantly shocked and grieved by the excesses of naked racism that infected Leeds like the blight for many years.

  The roasted chicken, like the soup before it, was cooked to perfection and was delectable, and for the first time since she had left Fairley, Emma felt both nourished and replete. She realized she had eaten very little in the week she had been in Leeds. She decided to correct that, for she was wise enough to understand that she must keep up her strength.

  There was much conversation at the table, about many diverse subjects which fascinated Emma, most of it conducted by the garrulous David and his slightly less garrulous father. Janessa would make a quiet comment occasionally and nod in agreement or shake her head at Emma, all the time smiling benignly, content to be in her home with those she loved, basking in the palpable love that flowed around her, and the festive mood of the Friday-evening dinner. Victor hardly volunteered a word, but he smiled sometimes at Emma, his hazel eyes soft and shyly friendly. A short while later, when she served the honey cakes and tea, Janessa looked down at Emma, her blue eyes twinkling. ‘I think you enjoyed our Jewish food, didn’t you, Mrs Harte?’

  Emma’s own eyes were dancing. ‘Oh, yes, I did, Mrs Kallinski. It was delicious. And please, call me Emma.’ Her glance swept around the entire table. ‘I would like everyone to call me Emm
a.’ The Kallinski family nodded in unison and returned her smiles. ‘We would be honoured,’ said Abraham in his gravely courteous way.

  They were drinking their tea when David’s eyes swivelled to Emma sitting by his side. Like the others, David had noticed Emma’s well-bred air, her good manners, and the quality of her dress, for even though it was cotton it was well cut. He was curious about her. Now he said, ‘I don’t want to seem nosy or rude, but what on earth were you doing in North Street this afternoon? Thank goodness you were, mind you. But it’s not such a nice area for anyone to be wandering around in.’

  Emma returned his piercing glance with one equally brilliant. ‘I was looking for a job,’ she said calmly.

  Total silence descended and four pairs of Kallinski eyes centred on Emma. It was Janessa who broke that silence. ‘A girl like you! Looking for work in that terrible district!’ she gasped, utterly thunderstruck.

  ‘Yes,’ said Emma softly. Since they were all gazing at her in amazement, she felt obliged to explain and she embarked on the same story she had invented for Rosie and repeated to Mrs Daniel, finishing, ‘And in the past week I have been to every fancy store in Leeds, looking for work as a salesgirl without any success. So today I decided to try my luck in North Street, at the tailoring shops. But I didn’t find anything there either. I had just been to Cohen’s and was making my way home when I saw the boys assaulting Mr Kallinski.’

  Three pairs of Kallinski eyes immediately swung away from Emma and lighted on Abraham, and again it was Janessa who spoke. ‘Abraham! Abraham! You must do something for Emma.’

  ‘Of course I must and I will,’ he replied, beaming at Emma sitting next to him. He patted her arm. ‘You do not have to worry about looking further. On Monday morning, at eight o’clock sharp, come to my tailoring shop and I will give you a job, Emma. I am sure we can find something suitable.’ He glanced at David. ‘Don’t you agree, son?’

  ‘Yes, Dad. We can start Emma off as a buttonholer. That’s not so hard,’ responded David.

  Emma was so surprised she was almost rendered speechless, but she quickly found her voice. ‘Why, thank you, Mr Kallinski! That would be wonderful.’ She gave him an intent look. ‘I learn very fast and I will work hard.’ She paused and shook her head. ‘I didn’t know you had a tailoring shop.’

  Abraham chuckled. ‘How could you have known? Anyway, it is in Rockingham Street near Camp Road. David will write down the exact address for you. It is not a very large workshop. We have about twenty people. But we do well enough, making up.’

  ‘What does “making up” mean?’ asked Emma, baffled by this expression but, as always, anxious to clarify anything she did not understand.

  Abraham gave her an avuncular smile. ‘Ah, yes, of course you are not familiar with the term, since you do not know the tailoring trade. It means that we do work for larger clothiers, like Barran’s and others, as do most of the Jewish tailoring shops in Leeds. We are an outside contractor.’

  ‘I see,’ said Emma. ‘So you make suits for the big clothiers and they go and sell them. Am I right?’

  ‘Not exactly, but I will let David explain. He is the one who lives, breathes, eats, and sleeps the tailoring trade in this family.’

  David laughed engagingly. ‘That’s not quite true, Dad.’ He leaned back in his chair and partially turned to Emma. ‘We don’t turn out an entire suit. We “make up” a particular section of a suit, maybe the sleeves, or jacket fronts and lapels, or the jacket backs, or sometimes trousers. We “make up” whatever the big factories decide to send us any given week.’

  Emma, alert as usual, said, ‘But why? That seems a funny way to do it. Isn’t it more complicated than just making the whole suit in one place?’

  David grinned. ‘No, strangely enough, it isn’t, because it’s very well organized. It’s also cheaper and faster. The big manufacturers can produce more finished suits by utilizing this method. They simply assemble all of the different parts at their own factories. It was an idea conceived by a little Jewish tailor called Herman Friend. It revolutionized the ready-made clothing industry and helped to put Leeds on the map as the biggest centre of ready-made clothing in the world. And the trade is growing more enormous every year.’ An excited gleam entered his eyes. ‘I tell you, Emma, the tailoring trade is going to make Leeds even more famous one day and immensely rich. It is indeed and I intend to be part of it all.’

  ‘Such ideas he has, this son of mine,’ murmured Abraham, shaking his head wonderingly, a hint of disbelief in his eyes.

  Emma was vastly intrigued, as she always was at the mention of money and new ideas. ‘This man, this Herman Friend, where did he get such an idea? Tell me more about him, David.’

  ‘Who knows what gave him the idea,’ he said with a shrug. ‘But it was certainly an idea that worked. Anyway, Herman Friend had his own little workshop and was “making-up” for the John Barran factory, the first ready-made clothiers to start in Leeds after Singer invented the sewing machine. They’re the biggest, and also non-Jewish, by the way. Friend invented the method of the divisional labour system when he was an outside contractor for Barran’s, dividing the making of one single suit into five or six different operations. This immediately reduced the cost of producing ready-made suits and, as I said before, increased output. It also meant that Barran’s, and the other big clothiers who adopted the system, could sell the suits at cheaper prices. Volume was the key and it put the price of a suit within the reach of the working man. Friend started to give out work to other small Jewish tailoring shops and the whole idea just snowballed.’

  Emma said, ‘A simple idea, but like so many simple ideas, it was very clever.’

  David nodded his agreement, somewhat taken aback by this observation. He was even further surprised when Emma continued, ‘Like the Marks and Spencer Penny Bazaar in Leeds Market. Now that is also a brilliant idea. Putting all the goods in different sections, showing them off so everyone can see them easily, examine them, and help themselves. And pricing them so cheaply. Don’t you think that is clever, David?’

  ‘I certainly do!’ He smiled. ‘Did you know that Michael Marks is also a Jewish immigrant who came to Leeds from Poland? He started with that one stall in Leeds Market ten years ago. He recently went into partnership with Tom Spencer and now they have Penny Bazaars all over Leeds, and are expanding to other cities. They’ll be a national chain one day. You’ll see.’

  Emma’s eyes were fixed on David, her mouth slightly open with amazement, excitement bringing a flush to her pale face. She was right. Leeds was the place to make a fortune. Now she said, ‘I believe anything is possible, if you have a good idea and are prepared to work hard.’

  ‘You’re absolutely correct, Emma,’ responded David. He launched into another success story, which Emma ate up.

  David and Emma could have talked all night, for they were both bursting with ambition, drive, and, most surprisingly, had an incredible vision quite remarkable for their years; and they intuitively began to recognize this and were drawn to each other instinctively. But Abraham glanced at the clock at this precise moment and said, ‘I think it is time for you boys to escort Emma home. I am enjoying her company, too, but it is getting late and I do not like the idea of you being on the streets when the public houses are turning out. Dangerous, I think.’

  ‘Yes, I must be getting along,’ Emma said, pushing back her chair. ‘But first I must help Mrs Kallinski to clear the table and wash the dishes.’

  ‘No, no, that is not necessary, Emma. My husband is right. The boys must take you home immediately. David, don’t forget to write out the address of the workshop for Emma, and then you must leave,’ said Janessa.

  Emma thanked the elder Kallinskis for their hospitality and the lovely dinner, and even more profusely for the job, which was so vital to her survival. She promised to be at the workshop on Monday morning at eight o’clock, and carefully tucked the paper into her handbag.

  It was a relatively long walk back to Mrs Dani
el’s house, but Emma felt safe, flanked on either side by the silent Victor and the voluble David. They did not run into any street gangs, and for Emma the time passed quickly with David chattering about all manner of things, but mostly about the tailoring trade. They insisted on taking her right to Mrs Daniel’s front door. In the gaslight from the streetlamp a few feet away, David and Victor were clearly illuminated. Emma looked from the solemn Victor to the laughing David and thought: They are so different but they are both very genuine. She gave her hand to Victor. ‘Thank you for bringing me home. Goodbye,’ she said.

  Victor gripped her hand with firmness. ‘Good night, Emma. And thank you for helping Father. It was good of you.’

  ‘Yes, it was!’ exclaimed David, who now grasped her hand in his. ‘See you Monday morning, bright and early. Good night, Emma.’

  They turned and began to walk away as she fitted the door key into the lock, but David stopped abruptly and ran back. ‘We think alike, Emma,’ he said, his voice vibrating confidently in the stillness. ‘I know we are going to be friends. Good friends.’

  Emma’s face was serious and she believed him. She nodded. ‘I think so, too, David.’ He opened the door for her, and when she was safely inside he ran lightly down the steps and raced after Victor, who was waiting for him at the end of the street.

  He was not aware of it then, but never had David Kallinski made a more prophetic pronouncement. They were indeed alike, for both were imbued with the will to succeed. And on that hot August night in 1905 a friendship had begun that was to last over half a century. Together they would climb, in their own individualistic ways, struggling up out of grim poverty, fighting all manner of prejudices, reaching for bigger and better things, and in their rising and their reaching they would carry the city with them. They would put their indelible imprint on Leeds, not only in their outstanding achievements as business magnates, but in their vast philanthropies. It was Emma Harte and David Kallinski, plus a handful of other conscientious, driven, and visionary Jews and Gentiles, who were to give birth to a city’s greatness.