The Mill Girls of Albion Lane

by Jenny Holmes

  ‘I suppose there’s no point asking why?’ Sybil muttered.

  ‘None at all. Believe me, I’m simply following orders.’ The manager pushed the other two envelopes towards her and Annie.

  ‘But we know why,’ Annie said, fiercely tearing hers open to check her employment card inside. ‘This is us being punished for what happened at the church yesterday – that’s what this is.’

  Wilson’s face remained impassive. ‘You are no longer employed at Calvert’s Mill. You must collect whatever tools and belongings you have here and be off the premises by half past nine.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t see us for dust,’ Sybil told him with angry determination. ‘Come on, Lily. Come on, Annie – we’re off!’

  ‘I’ve never seen Fred look so pleased with himself,’ Sybil remarked to Annie and Lily as the three women retreated to Nixon’s corner café and commiserated over a cup of tea. ‘He was grinning like a Cheshire cat when we went in to collect our aprons and say our goodbyes.’

  ‘Ah, but he won’t have the last laugh,’ Annie vowed. ‘Wait until he sees our names above the door of that little shop of ours!’

  Lily was still reeling from the shock and trying to get to grips with the fact that the one reliable wage in the Briggs household had suddenly vanished. She wondered what her mother would have thought and heard Rhoda’s voice saying, ‘What are we to do now, pray tell? We can’t live on fresh air.’

  And it was true – Lily’s wage from Calvert’s Mill was what had kept the family afloat for six years and the traipse into work each morning, the never-altering view of black walls and grimy windows, the wide arch through which she shuffled had all seeped through her skin and into her bones so that suddenly being cast adrift by the mill owner made her feel very afraid, like a sailor thrown overboard into a vast, empty ocean and flailing his arms to attract rescue.

  ‘How about Miss Valentine?’ Sybil drew Lily out of her daze, stirring sugar into her tea and taking note of the steamed-up windows and shabby interior of the once prosperous café. ‘How did she take the news?’

  ‘She was knocked for six, just like us,’ Lily replied. It was only now as she took her first sip of tea that she was able to stop trembling. ‘She shook my hand and wished me well.’

  ‘She knows she’s lost one of the best menders she’s ever likely to have,’ Sybil murmured. ‘There’s no need to be modest, Lil – we all know it’s true.’

  There was another pause while they each let the bleak reality of their sacking sink in and the silence was only broken by the hiss of steam from a copper boiler behind the counter and the chink of crockery from a tiny kitchen beyond.

  ‘You know, this latest business could work out well for us in the end, the same as being put on short time. It could be a blessing in disguise.’ Overcoming her distress, Lily grew more determined to see a cup half full rather than half empty. ‘For a start, losing our jobs sets us free to carry on helping Harry.’

  ‘Without the Calverts breathing down our necks,’ Annie agreed. ‘Talk about every cloud …’

  ‘That’s the ticket.’ Sybil’s voice carried equal conviction. ‘Now we have all the time in the world to follow up what Winifred told us. We can be the Dr Watsons to your Sherlock, Lily.’

  ‘That’s funny – it’s what Harry once called me,’ Lily recalled with a faint smile. ‘“A right little Sherlock Holmes”.’

  ‘So we all agree.’ Rattling her empty cup down on to the saucer, Annie let it be known she was ready for business. ‘The important thing is for us to find out who was laying in wait for Billy in the shrubbery and to heck with the Calverts.’

  ‘That’s right, they can’t order us around if we’re not working for them.’ Lily paused, wondering if it had been Eleanor Calvert or her husband who had ordered their dismissal. ‘What do you say we move on from here up to number 5. We’ve plenty of sewing work to get on with while we talk.’

  The trio paid for their tea and walked on up Albion Lane, crossing paths with Lily’s father, who ducked his head and scuttled sheepishly by.

  ‘No prizes for guessing where he’s going,’ Annie remarked. ‘Look at him – he didn’t even stop to ask why we aren’t at work.’

  ‘Too busy thinking about his pint, I expect.’ Sybil too made it plain that she hadn’t shifted in her opinion that Walter Briggs’s conduct left a lot to be desired.

  As for Lily, the sight of Walter shuffling down the hill well ahead of opening time pulled at her heart strings so she made herself concentrate instead on the task in hand. ‘I’ll tell you one thing that sticks in my mind,’ she admitted as they reached number 5 and stepped inside. ‘It’s Mrs Calvert learning about Billy’s visit ahead of time then arranging for Winifred to be out of the way.’

  ‘That looks dicey,’ Sybil agreed. ‘Enough to tell me she could be the one behind our two mystery men.’

  ‘Which she’ll deny!’ Annie reminded them forcefully. ‘She’ll claim she doesn’t know anything about them. And I’d do the same, in her position.’

  ‘The thing is, Winifred is much too frightened of her mother to stand up to her,’ Lily pointed out. She found that by methodically setting out her scissors and pins, needles and threads on the kitchen table, she was able to think more logically. ‘That means we’ve got to find out for ourselves who they are.’

  ‘Wait, go back a bit,’ said Sybil suddenly. ‘Wouldn’t the only connection between Eleanor Calvert and the type of roughnecks we’re talking about be through the shopkeepers and delivery boys who call at Moor House?’

  ‘Like Ernie,’ Lily muttered. ‘Durant’s deliver meat to the Calverts. He told me so himself.’

  ‘Then let’s talk to him,’ Sybil proclaimed.

  ‘As soon as he’s finished work for the day,’ Lily whole-heartedly concurred.

  ‘That’s right – we’ve still got a fight on our hands.’ Annie rolled up her sleeves, ready for work. ‘We’re not ready to give up – you hear?’

  ‘No, we won’t ever do that,’ Lily agreed, reining back her impatience and inserting neat running stitches into the cream lace material intended for the baby’s christening gown.

  ‘We won’t let an innocent man go to the gallows.’ Snipping and tacking, trimming and gathering the floral fabric for the larger of the two Whitsuntide dresses, Sybil spoke in unusually dramatic terms that made Lily’s heart beat so fast it threatened to jump clean out of her chest. ‘With or without Mrs Calvert’s help, we’ll get to the bottom of this.’

  ‘This is where having a telephone would help,’ Sybil said when teatime came and they’d got into a fresh huddle outside Newby’s. ‘We’d be able to ring up Mr Durant and find out where Ernie was.’

  A quick-thinking Annie nodded then dashed inside the sweet shop, surprising Evie by making a dive across the counter to pick up the receiver and ask the operator for the number of Durant’s Butchers. A minute later she’d found out from Ernie’s dad that Ernie had indeed finished his deliveries for the day and would no doubt be found propping up the bar at the Green Cross.

  ‘Then that’s where we’ll head next,’ Lily decided once Annie had established the facts.

  ‘Good Lord, the girl’s turned into an express train again,’ Sybil complained to Annie as Lily sprinted off with them in tow. ‘Wait for us, Lily, we can’t keep up.’

  ‘She’s not listening,’ Annie warned.

  And it was true – all Lily cared about was tracking down Ernie and firing off the next set of questions about who else went up to Moor House with deliveries. She arrived at the Cross well ahead of Sybil and Annie, swinging open the door and taking in the gas-lit bar with its ornate mirror and rows of spirits. Behind the counter, Chalky White was pulling a pint for Lily’s cousin Tommy.

  ‘Now then, what’s up?’ Tommy called as soon as he spotted her in the doorway. ‘Have you come to stand me a pint?’

  Lily ignored his well-worn taunt and searched the room for Ernie Durant. There was the usual group of men playing dominoes
at a table by the window, two more playing darts and her father and her Uncle George huddled over their glasses in the darkest corner of the snug, but no sign of their friend.

  ‘Miss Briggs, what can I get you?’ Chalky asked as Lily advanced towards the bar.

  ‘Miss Briggs, is it?’ Tommy pretended to choke on his light ale. ‘Oh yes, I forgot, we have to show respect where it’s due now that Lily’s a burler and mender!’

  ‘Not any more,’ she muttered, realizing that Tommy would find out sooner rather than later. She ignored Frank Summerskill as he emerged from the gents’ toilets to join Tommy at the bar. ‘I was wondering, Chalky – have you seen Ernie by any chance?’

  ‘Not lately,’ the barman answered.

  ‘Ah, she’s after the butcher’s boy now that Harry Bainbridge has got himself put away for murder,’ Tommy mocked, a lock of Brylcreemed hair falling forward on to his forehead. ‘You don’t hang about, Lily, I must say.’

  ‘Take no notice,’ Sybil said, as she and Annie hurried through the door and caught the gist of Tommy’s remark. Annie glowered at a sniggering Frank.

  ‘Ernie’s not here,’ Lily reported, glancing over to her father and seeing how abject he looked. He’d obviously had one over the eight and was oblivious to most of what was going on around him. ‘It’s no good, I’d better take him home,’ she decided reluctantly.

  ‘Yes, tuck him up in bed,’ Chalky agreed.

  ‘Rather you than me,’ Tommy sneered. ‘Uncle Walter’s been here that long his backside is glued to the stool he’s sitting on.’

  Sure enough, it took two of them to get Walter up into a standing position – Lily and Sybil, each supporting one arm and steering the drunken man towards the door which Annie held open.

  ‘If you happen to see Ernie, tell him we want to know who delivers food and coal and such like up to the Calverts at Moor House,’ she mentioned to Chalky as she departed.

  To her surprise, the remark brought Tommy out of the pub after them. ‘Why are you lot poking your noses into what goes on at the Calverts’?’ he demanded. ‘What’s it got to do with you?’

  Hearing his raised voice, Lily steadied her father and turned to her cousin. ‘And why should you care?’

  Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he quickly backed down. ‘I don’t. Never mind, forget it.’

  Walter swayed against Lily, leaning on her with his full weight so that she staggered sideways and had to be helped by both Annie and Sybil.

  ‘Let’s get him home,’ Sybil insisted.

  But Lily was bothered by her cousin’s interference. ‘What’s going on, Tommy? You haven’t suddenly got a job as a delivery boy yourself, by any chance?’

  The question made him laugh out loud – a sudden, barking sound without any trace of humour. ‘Me?’ he scoffed. ‘No, you won’t see me running errands for the Calverts!’

  ‘No – silly me!’ Lily was riled by Tommy’s smugness. Though her father was swaying and mumbling incoherently, she put off guiding him home. ‘I can’t see you pedalling a bike along the moor road in this weather. But I can see Frank having to do it if it’s his only way to make ends meet.’

  ‘You leave Frank out of it,’ Tommy warned.

  ‘Aye, aye – it looks like you hit a nerve there, Lily.’ Annie took Walter’s weight as he swayed against her. ‘Come along, Mr Briggs, stand up nice and straight, there’s a good chap.’

  ‘Waste of time talking to the likes of Tommy,’ Walter mumbled, slurring his words and ineffectually trying to push Annie away. ‘I told him, no … scrounging a pint off me … no, I said … call himself a Rovers supporter …’

  ‘Steady now,’ Sybil advised, but try as she and Annie might, they couldn’t prevent him from letting his knees buckle and his weight was too much for them to keep him on his feet.

  Stricken with a sharp sense of shame as her father sank to the ground, Lily hurried to help him back up but was pushed aside by Tommy who roughly took hold of Walter and did the job for her.

  ‘Every week when I was your age … at the turnstiles … cheering my team on,’ Walter rambled, fending off the three women with flailing arms. ‘But no, not you, Tommy …’

  ‘You shut your trap, old man!’ his nephew said, thrusting Walter back against the wall.

  ‘Tommy!’ Lily cried, shocked at his rough handling of her father.

  ‘Billy and all,’ Walter slurred, eyes unfocused and spit dribbling from his mouth as he slid to the ground once more.

  Lily crouched beside him and made him look at her. ‘What about Billy?’

  Walter returned her earnest gaze with a vacant stare. ‘Billy who? What are you on about?’

  ‘Nothing. Don’t listen to her.’ Tommy moved in again and manhandled him back on his feet then began to march him along Ghyll Road. When Walter stumbled over the kerb, Tommy wrenched his arm so violently that Lily feared he would pull her father’s arm out of its socket.

  ‘That’ll do, that’s enough!’ she remonstrated, moving in to rescue him. At last she, Sybil and Annie were able to take charge, leaving Tommy behind as they steered Walter to the bottom of Albion Lane. From there they got him up the hill and into the house where he finally collapsed in the fireside chair.

  Warm from the effort of bringing Walter home, Annie, Sybil and Lily took time to catch their breath. Then, while Sybil put the kettle on and Annie hung Walter’s scarf and cap on the hook, Lily crouched beside him on the rug to unfasten his collar and straighten him out. ‘There, that’s better. How are you feeling now, Father?’

  ‘Call themselves Rovers supporters,’ he grumbled, on the same incoherent tack as before.

  ‘Who?’ she asked.

  This time he managed a sensible reply. ‘You know who. Billy for a start. He’d be alive now if only he’d gone to watch the match.’

  ‘Who else?’ she insisted, placing a hand over his and patting it to keep his attention. She sensed that the answer was vitally important.

  ‘Tommy and what’s his name – they reckon they go to matches week in, week out, but I know they don’t.’

  ‘Tommy and Frank?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  Tommy Briggs and Frank Summerskill – two known fist-fighters and fly-by-nights, one lithe and skinny, one tall and with brutish strength. Lily’s heart pounded and her eyes widened as she looked up at Sybil and Annie.

  ‘Oh Lord!’ Annie breathed as more pieces of the jigsaw slotted into place.

  ‘Jumped-up jackasses, the pair of them,’ Walter growled. ‘It’s only this last week or two that they’ve had the price of a pint of beer to their name.’

  ‘Mr Briggs!’ Sybil said, crouching beside Lily. ‘Did Tommy and Frank mention where they’d been the afternoon Billy got hurt?’

  ‘How the hell should I know? I only know they came to the Cross to hand Sam Earby’s bike back. They’d taken it for a spin along the canal path, Tommy said.’

  ‘Or up to Moor House,’ Annie muttered.

  Walter let out a long, loud sigh. ‘All I know is, Sam’s face dropped a mile when he went out for his bike. He stormed back in and said it looked like it had been dragged through a hedge backwards – front mudguard missing and spokes all bent to billio.’

  ‘That’s it!’ Lily threw her arms round a bewildered Walter. ‘Thank you, Father. Thank you, thank you!’

  ‘Steady on,’ the old man slurred.

  Sybil frowned at Annie as they both tried to follow Lily’s latest line of thought.

  ‘Don’t you see?’ she said. ‘All the police need to do now is match up the pieces of metal they found at Moor House with Sam’s bike. That lands Tommy and Frank in it and lets Harry off the hook once and for all!’

  ‘And it was Father who held the key all along!’ Lily told Evie and Margie with a bemused expression that made them smile. ‘I’d have been down at the station with Sybil and Annie right this minute, except that Sybil said we should wait until Father has sobered up so that he can back up what we’re saying.’

>   The three sisters sat together in the kitchen after Walter had been put to bed and Annie and Sybil had left in high spirits. Evie was back from a full day’s stint behind the counter at Newby’s and Margie had dropped by to make the arrangements to bring Arthur home to Albion Lane after school next day.

  ‘Now all I have to do is go to the police station and pass it on to Sergeant Magson first thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘And you’re telling me that this was Mrs Calvert’s doing?’ Margie fastened on to the aspect that most fascinated her. ‘Imagine that – her in her ivory tower looking down on poor Billy and Winifred then paying Tommy and Frank to send him packing.’

  ‘Will she get into trouble when you tell the police?’ Evie asked, doing her best to absorb what she’d been told but finding it hard to keep up.

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see,’ Lily cautioned. ‘What she did was definitely against the law even if she didn’t expect it to get out of hand the way it did.’

  Margie, however, revelled in the prospect of Eleanor Calvert’s downfall. ‘Women like her think they can dish out orders willy-nilly. Do this, do that, dig my garden, cook my dinner, drive me here and there whenever I like.’

  ‘That’s the way of the world.’ Lily sighed.

  ‘Not any more, it isn’t.’ Margie’s colour rose as she tore into her subject. ‘Times are changing, Evie, you mark my words. These days even the Calverts have to fall into line. There’s no use them throwing their weight around – people won’t stand for it if they do.’

  ‘Oh yes, and we can walk away and find other jobs at the drop of a hat, can we?’ Lily wanted to know. ‘Look at what’s happened to me, Annie and Sybil. We’ve no chance of finding mill work now, even if we wanted.’

  ‘Which you don’t,’ Margie said quickly. ‘And that’s because you’ve got something else you can turn your hand to. Calvert and the like don’t bargain for that – they’re too used to having things all their own way.’

  ‘Since when have you become such a firebrand?’ Lily queried.

  ‘Since I had time to think about things,’ Margie replied with stout determination. ‘And on top of that, I’ve been racking my brains over what work I can do until the baby comes. Granddad says the tram company is advertising for clerical help while one of their women goes into hospital for an operation. That would suit me, I think.’