Annie's Promise

by Margaret Graham

  Georgie pushed the tin round, faster and faster. ‘Manners doesn’t bully, and he doesn’t bully idiots, or am I one, is that what you’re trying to say?’

  Annie flushed, shaking her head, wanting to pound the table. ‘Of course I’m not, I’m just – ’

  ‘We need this,’ Georgie broke in, his voice cold. ‘We hooked in – I hooked in. So I’m saying we’re going for it, we’ve got to.’ His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed. ‘I’m telling you, Annie, we’re going for it, it’s too important to bugger up. We’ll just have to risk losing the traders, it won’t matter when we’re in the shops, we won’t need them. It’s not dangerous, it’s foolproof, we’ll have a contract. The stall holders are businessmen, they’ll understand. Who did they dump to take you on? What d’you think, Tom?’

  Tom was looking from one to the other. ‘I don’t know that I like the idea of the traders copping it. Annie’s got a point, Georgie.’

  He was looking at Annie now.

  She felt the scones again. There were currants in six of them, which would Sarah prefer? But the anger was boiling up.

  ‘As a matter of fact, Georgie, they didn’t dump anyone to take us on, the old man died and we won the orders on merit, on my workmanship.’

  ‘How’s the old stock?’ Tom broke in. ‘Can we take that out to replace the exclusives so we don’t let them down?’

  Annie shook her head, waiting until she was calmer. ‘I’ve thought of that but there’s not nearly enough though there are the new season’s designs. I was just wondering if we could pick one, make those up, take them out cold, no samples, do a straight exchange but I’d need to set the homeworkers on. We’d need to pay them over the odds to work round the clock so I could get them to the stalls before Manners’ deadline.’

  Georgie nodded, easing his back. ‘Fine, get some of those out but we can’t afford homeworkers, we’re already down for enough of a loan, we can’t afford to extend it. If you get a few out to them it’ll be enough. If they’re loyal like you say they’ll wear it. We’ll get some more to them by the end of the week. If they make a fuss, kiss them goodbye, they’re not worth the hassle.’

  Annie stood up, banging the table, shouting at her husband. ‘But why the hell should they wear it? Manners is being totally unreasonable, the whole thing stinks, and it’s we who will be damaged too, not just the traders. What’s the matter with you, Georgie. Look, I’m telling you, watch my lips – without them we’re just too vulnerable, we’ll not just lose today’s order but future ones. We need to supply them properly, we need to put money out or maybe you’re going to sit up throughout the night sewing?’ She gripped his arm.

  Georgie shook free and now he was shouting too, his lips drawn tight. ‘No, I’m not because I’ll be down the bloody pit earning the money that’s kept this afloat until someone like Manners came along and I’d like to remind you that I was the one who went out and got that, without a load of money being wasted on trains, taxis and bloody coffees. So no, I won’t be sewing, I’ll be down there with that bloody cutter screeching and the conveyor clattering until I can’t speak, let alone think, that’s where I’ll be.’

  He slammed back into his chair and there was silence until Annie said, ‘I’ll ring the traders at home tonight, explain, promise delivery of the new season’s stock by the end of tomorrow, or at least enough to keep them going.’ Because what else could she say? She knew from his face that the edge had finally gone, that it was the thought of more time in the pit that was pushing him and it should be pushing her – what the hell was she thinking of? This man had had enough.

  She and Gracie worked throughout the night even though Annie thought her head would explode with pain and in the morning she set on Brenda, telling Georgie she would hock the walnut table to pay for her if necessary and so he said nothing.

  In the afternoon she drove round, collecting back the Manners exclusives, restocking as far as she could, but there were not enough, not nearly enough and that evening she told Tom and Georgie that they were no longer the sole suppliers of most of the traders, in fact they had been dropped by half of them. She kept her voice neutral and didn’t tell them of the comments that had been made to her, the disgust which had been voiced, because she agreed with every word. That night she didn’t sleep and there was space in the bed between them because she couldn’t bear the thought of him touching her. In the morning the rage was still there and she wanted to shake him for putting them in this position, for going down the pit in the first place.

  Tom phoned to say that Manners wanted to change the delivery date from 1st July to 1st June and Annie clenched the receiver and said that she’d only begin work when she had a contract, until then nothing was going to happen. ‘Nothing, do you hear?’ she shouted.

  On Wednesday the written order arrived and it was only now that Annie asked for delivery of the machines and the cloth and their terraced house shook as the lorries pulled up at Wassingham Textiles and off loaded. She called to the neighbours. ‘Sorry about the noise.’

  ‘That’s all right, Annie, d’you need a hand, lass?’ Mrs Warren called from across the street.

  ‘If I do, you’ll be the first I call on, Pat, bless you.’

  The children took the machines round on their carts after school and Annie set up the rotary cutter in the dining-room. She cut out all evening and delivered to Brenda, Meg and Irene before breakfast. If they had to supply this man, then they’d do it perfectly.

  She cut out and sewed the stock for the remaining market traders and the small shops throughout the day, and so did Gracie and they checked them as carefully as Manners’ stock because they also deserved perfection.

  She sewed for her own stall.

  ‘But you won’t be going in now,’ Georgie said on Thursday evening. ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘There’s every need,’ she replied.

  ‘That’s crazy,’ he said, pulling off his boots, warming himself by the range.

  ‘I need to be seen there, I need to recover the situation as much as I can.’

  ‘It’s not necessary any more, you’ll get too tired. You won’t be able to do the job you need to do.’

  ‘We’re all too tired and we’re all doing the jobs we need to do, you more than anyone.’ Annie left him in the kitchen, not wanting to discuss the markets, not wanting to think of the hours he was down there, for her. But for himself too, God damn it.

  She sat at the sewing machine, working, her head bent low, nodding as Sarah and Davy brought in the completes from Brenda and Meg.

  ‘Rob’s gone for Irene’s,’ Sarah said and Annie nodded.

  ‘There’re some scones in the tin – and thank you, you’ve been wonderful.’

  ‘Shall we sew some roses on, Mam? You look so tired.’ Sarah’s hand was on her shoulder and for a moment Annie leant her head against her daughter’s and felt warm arms round her neck.

  ‘You’ve done enough, my love, now go and have a scone.’

  ‘Dad can sew them then, I’ll send him in,’ Sarah was following Davy from the room.

  ‘No, your da’s tired, I’ll do it. He can pop you into bed through and I’ll come up later.’

  She watched as they shut the door. No, she didn’t want Georgie in with her. She stretched her arms, rolled her shoulders, eased her neck then sorted through Brenda’s, they were almost perfect, just seven rejects. She’d re-do them later. But Meg’s smelt of cigarettes and there were ash marks on twenty-four of them. Dear God, as though things weren’t difficult enough.

  Annie threw her coat on, walked through the kitchen smiling at them, closing the door gently behind her.

  Georgie took the scone that Sarah offered him, breathing in the scent that Annie had left behind, knowing that her anger would leave her when Manners paid up, knowing that they could hook back the traders when they had more time. He’d just go and talk to them as he’d talked to Manners – it’d be easy and then she’d see that all they’d been doing was prioritise. She just hadn’t
grasped how to kick-start a business. He tasted the scone and pulled a face – he didn’t like currants.

  Annie walked round to Sindon Terrace, walked past the pigeons cooing in the loft. Frank had said that Geoff kept pigeons but they never won races, they were overfed.

  Meg opened the door, her face surprised. ‘It’s nine o’clock, Annie, I’m just making Geoff’s supper.’

  Annie nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sorry but, Meg, I’ve a bit of a problem. You see, I can’t have you smoking when you’re sewing. It’s a fire hazard and when we move into the new premises it will be forbidden. But it’s not just that, it makes the clothes smell and there are ash marks on two dozen of them.’

  She was speaking quietly, not wanting the neighbours to hear, feeling her embarrassment making her blunt. ‘I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I should have told you, you weren’t to know.’

  Meg’s face flushed. ‘Keeps me weight down you see, smoking does. But I won’t, not while I’m sewing.’

  The next night there were no ash marks but there was still the smell of smoke and Annie had to walk to Sindon Terrace again. This time Meg told her that she hadn’t smoked at all, though her husband had, and he wouldn’t stop. Annie nodded, pressed the woman’s arm, said, ‘Not to worry, I’ll just air them then.’ There were tears in Meg’s eyes.

  She called in on Tom. ‘Why did you suggest Meg?’

  ‘Because her old man’s a bugger. She needs the money, the sense of doing something for herself but if there’s a problem we’ll drop her, this is too important.’

  Annie shook her head. ‘There’s been too much dropping and no, there’s no problem, this is why we started this business, remember? I think she’ll do very nicely, Tom.’

  Each evening she aired Meg’s garments and told Georgie that it was common practice to hang things up when they’d just come in.

  The next morning she called in at the estate agents as Georgie had asked, checking that the rent was the same. Then she called in at the planning office on her way to the stalls, checking on their requirements, noting them down, referring them to Tom so that plans could be drawn up and presented as soon as possible. Once they were in premises there would be so much less rushing around and besides Meg could work in peace.

  She worked eighteen hours a day, and so did Gracie. Tom redesigned the autumn collection and Annie ran up samples. The stationery was ordered, collapsible cardboard boxes for the presentations were costed. She checked and rechecked the homeworkers’ garments and had to have one of the sewing machines repaired which held them up, but by the day of the Convent Open Day they were still on schedule with six weeks to go. At the eleventh hour she realised that she had forgotten to buy a hat and asked Pat Warren if she could borrow hers. It was pink, with flowers, and Sarah laughed.

  ‘Well, I think you look lovely, Auntie Annie,’ Davy said, ‘Like a spring garden.’

  ‘You’re a smooth talker, Davy Ryan, just like your dad.’

  Annie smiled as Davy flushed. ‘You are, you know, just like your dad.’ She made a note to speak to Tom about Davy, he must include him more, Rob took too much of his time.

  They were driving up and out of Wassingham, Sarah and Davy in the back, Tom, Gracie, and Rob following. Betsy wouldn’t come, she had too much cooking and washing and ironing to do, she had said, but give the lass my love, and Don and Maud of course.

  ‘Bet just didn’t want to come,’ she said quietly to Georgie.

  ‘Did any of us?’ he replied and Annie didn’t answer, just felt the tension coil around them. She watched the countryside as they travelled the road she felt she could now navigate blindfold.

  They arrived in good time and as Georgie drove in through the school gates Annie looked at the sloping gardens she had not seen since she had left the school so long ago. The rhododendrons were still there.

  ‘They grow wild in the foothills of the Himalayas,’ she said over her shoulder to the children. ‘Your dad’s seen them, haven’t you, Georgie?’

  He nodded, smiling now. ‘Saw them but missed your mam too much to notice them.’ Annie sat silently, watching his hands on the wheel.

  ‘Will this do?’ He swung the car into the car park and they all walked across the gravel to the front of the school where the yew hedges were still set in squares. ‘I love you, I’m sorry I shouted, I can’t bear it when you’re angry.’ He took her hand.

  They stood close together seeing the spring flower beds within the hedges and Annie remembered her sense of loss when she had begun here, her sense of only being half a person because Georgie was not here. She looked at his face, the pit’s deep lines, the love in his eyes, the weariness, and knew that nothing could really hurt their love, nothing. They were together, that’s all that mattered. ‘I love you too,’ she said.

  They strolled amongst the other parents, their hands tightly gripped, his thumb playing on her skin and she knew that he felt the same, that he always would, and now her smile came from deep within her.

  They walked down the paths, and she showed them the runner beans the nuns had always grown, the cloakrooms where she had had her peg, the chapel which was still painted white with brown beams.

  ‘There was a lot of spectacles, testicles, collar and cuffs, was there?’ Sarah asked.

  Georgie and Annie just stood and stared. ‘What did you say?’ Annie managed to say eventually.

  ‘Norma told me they did a lot of that at convents, you know, made the sign of the cross. That’s how they remember, she said.’ Sarah was looking at the lectern. Tom and Georgie were grinning, Gracie and Annie caught at Sarah’s coat and hurried the children out, hoping that no one had been close enough to hear.

  ‘Oh no, there they are,’ Sarah groaned in front of her and Annie poked her with her finger.

  ‘Smile,’ she hissed, walking towards her brother, kissing Don, clashing hats with Maud, asking Terry when she was playing.

  ‘Time for a quick look round then,’ she said, looking at Don and he smiled, his starched white shirt digging into his neck.

  ‘Are you going to show us then, Terry?’

  ‘Teresa,’ said Maud.

  ‘Or course,’ Annie murmured not looking at Sarah, Davy, or any of the others.

  They toured the hall where there had always been chrysanthemums in the late summer. That had been the smell she had remembered when the Japanese had come to the cathedral in Singapore to herd them to the camps. Annie shook her head free of the memory.

  Terry led the way to the cloakroom again and Annie shook her head at Sarah. ‘Be quiet,’ she mouthed. ‘Just look interested, again.’ They passed the form rooms this time and Annie peered through the glass. Was ‘Sandy loves Sister Nicole’ still carved on the desk? Where was Sandy?

  ‘Is the conservatory still cold?’ she asked Teresa. ‘Detentions were such a misery there.’

  ‘Teresa has never had a detention,’ Maud said, her heels clipping on the wooden floor.

  ‘Of course,’ Annie replied.

  There was tea set up in the hall and Annie sat at one of the tables, gesturing to the other chairs. ‘Time for a cuppa.’

  Maud glanced around quickly.

  ‘Sorry, time for a cup of tea I think,’ Annie said, drawing out her cigarettes.

  ‘It’s no smoking in here, Annie,’ Don said.

  ‘Of course it is,’ Annie replied, trying not to smile, looking across at the children, ignoring the grins of Tom and Georgie, suggesting to Teresa that she took her cousins to see the gym, and perhaps the music room.

  ‘Miss Harding used to poke my hands with a pencil when I made a wrong note. She was a dreadful old witch.’

  ‘I won the Miss Harding Prize, this year, that’s why I’m playing.’ Teresa’s mouth was as prim as Maud’s and Don’s.

  ‘Of course you did,’ Annie said faintly. ‘Well done, Teresa.’

  ‘We’re not going to learn the piano,’ Sarah said, frowning at Annie who saw she had no intention of being shown anything by Teresa, who equally, had no int
ention of being the guide. ‘We’re going to play skiffle, aren’t we, Davy, then we’re getting guitars.’

  Annie turned and looked at them, then at Georgie. ‘Well, we learn something new every day, don’t we? I thought the old washboard had disappeared.’ She raised her eyebrows and accepted the tea that the senior girls brought round. Georgie caught her eye and grimaced, he’d have killed for a beer, and she was so glad they’d come to Gosforn and left the anger behind.

  They sat in the hall for the performance, it still smelt of chalk and polish and while Teresa played Annie thought of the languid days, Georgie’s first letters from the Army and she touched his hand, felt him hold hers, lift it to his lips and it didn’t matter that Maud tutted, that Don frowned.

  Teresa was very good and only stumbled once and Annie felt for the child as Don’s lips tightened and he tapped his programme on his lap. She clapped all the harder because of this, and congratulated Don and Maud on Teresa’s playing. ‘It’s so clever to be able to recover, says a great deal for her skill.’ She was having to shout over the noise of scraping chairs as people rose and filtered out of the building. Georgie took her arm as they followed, calling to Don who led the way. ‘Really must go, we’ve got a lot to do but it’s been a great afternoon, Don.’ She squeezed his arm because he was trying to be pleasant and she knew it was for her sake.

  Don walked on, keeping up with the flow but stopping on the drive in front of the school, brushing at dust on his sleeve, smiling at them as he shook Georgie’s hand. ‘By the way, how’s it going?’ he asked. ‘I heard about the Manners order on the grapevine, this is the breakthrough for you, isn’t it, it’ll give you the credibility you need – word gets round quickly, whether it’s good or bad.’

  Annie nodded, watching Sarah and Davy walking up to Teresa, pleased to see them smiling, knowing that Sarah had seen Don’s irritation at his daughter’s mistake.

  She heard Georgie’s voice harden as he said, ‘Not likely to be bad at this stage so yes, it’s what we’ve been needing. It’ll set us up and we’re already drawing up plans for Briggs’ place.’