by Anna Jacobs
“You know I haven’t! That’s why I’m so careful with my money. But there’ll be time enough for fancy clothes when I have some real money behind me.”
“Raise your eyes from the ground, girl! You don’t make real money by grubbing in the mud for farthings! Why aren’t you making new dresses for people, instead of patching up those pitiful rags? Why aren’t you dreaming of becoming a proper dressmaker? This town abounds with silly women, who have nothing better to do than fritter away their husbands’ money on fancy clothes and falderals in Manchester. Why don’t you take their money away from them, since they’re so eager to spend it?”
Annie’s full attention was caught now. “Do you really think I could do that?”
“I don’t know, but I think you should try.” Pauline was not one to boost morale without foundation. “Anything would be an improvement on those rags you’re for ever patching together. I’ll think less of you if you don’t have a try.”
“We make good money from what you call rags!”
“Good money!” snorted Pauline. “You mean you make a living and a bit to spare. I don’t call that good money.”
“It’s good money in the Rows.”
“The Rows! The Rows! There’s more to the world than these filthy terraces, Annie, my girl! It’s a pity you ever had to come back to Salem Street!”
“I didn’t have much choice about that, did I?”
Pauline sighed and spoke more gently. “I know. You’ve done well, all things considered. But now it’s time to make some changes, to take a step forward. And the first thing to do is to change the way you dress, so that people can see that you’re different.”
“I suppose you have a point there.”
“You know I do. If you dress more fashionably yourself, other women will want to look like you and they’ll come to you for clothes. Not ladies, not yet. One step at a time. But there are plenty of farmers’ wives, and clerks’ or shopkeepers’ wives around nowadays, not to mention their daughters, some of them in our congregation. They have money to spend, too.” Satisfied that she’d made her point, she left things at that and changed the subject by asking for another cup of tea.
When Pauline had left, Annie sat and stared at the pile of fashion magazines Pauline had given her. A few days later, for the first time in years, she bought some lengths of material and made herself some brand new dresses. She also experimented with her hair and started wearing it in a more fashionable style, though she grudged the extra time she had to spend on putting it up every morning. Here Kathy proved unexpectedly helpful, for she turned out to have a way with hair and loved to experiment with new styles. They joked about Annie having her own lady’s maid now.
The first time Annie went out in her new clothes, she felt very self-conscious. She’d tried them out the evening before on Tom and he’d been loudly appreciative.
“Turn round. Walk across the room.” He whistled softly. “I didn’t know you could look so – so …”
“So what?”
“So fashionable and – and pretty. You’re a proper stunner, our Annie, and I never realised it!” He grinned at her. “What brought this on?”
“Pauline Hinchcliffe. She said I should dress better, start making new clothes for people.”
“Well, if those are anything to go by, she’s right. You look downright elegant.” He seemed surprised by that.
“I’d forgotten what it was like.” Annie stroked the material of her skirt.
“Forgotten what what was like?”
“Oh, forgotten what it’s like to wear pretty clothes and fuss about my hair. All that sort of thing. Kathy did my hair tonight. Do you like it like this?”
“Aye. You look – well, you look like a proper lady. You really do.”
Charlie just sat and smiled at them. “Annie allus looks pretty,” he said complacently. “I’ve got the prettiest wife in town, I have.”
“Thanks, both of you. She knew Tom wouldn’t have said that if he hadn’t meant it, not to her. She looked down at her hands thoughtfully. “I’ll have to do something about these, though. They’re too rough to sew delicate fabrics. I think you’ll have to take over more of the housework, Kathy. Would you mind?”
“’Course not! You know I’d rather cook an’ clean than sew,” said Kathy in her gentle voice. “I’m not a good sewer like you, though I can run a neat seam as quick as anyone. But I am a good cook.”
Annie nodded. “You certainly are. All right, then. You can be my new housekeeper, as well as lady’s maid.” They laughed at each other.
The next day Annie went out into town in her new clothes. Before she got to the end of Salem Street, she met Bridie O’Connor, whose mouth dropped open at the sight of her.
“Annie, me darlin’, have ye come into a fortune, then?”
Annie flushed. “No, I decided to – to make myself a new dress or two, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t ye look a proper lady! Sure, your mother would be proud of ye the day!”
“I hope so.”
Bridie had some good news to share. “I’ve had word from Danny again.”
Annie forgot her new clothes. Danny O’Connor had been away for several years and she knew how much Bridie had missed him and fretted about his safety. “Oh, Bridie, I’m so glad for you! How is he? When is he coming to see you? It must be – what – ten years since you’ve seen him?”
“Aye. It’ll be a good ten now. Ah, but he was a bad boy to go away like that! But maybe it’s all been for the good. An’ he has written from time to time, at least he’s written. There’s some poor women as never hear from their sons again. Danny sent us a letter through that new penny post this time. I had nothin’ to pay for it at all; they just brought it to the house and give it to me. Isn’t that a miracle, now?”
She shook her head at the wonder of it all and continued eagerly with her news. “He writes a good hand, Father Shaughnessy says, a good clear educated hand. Just fancy that! Our Danny! The father read the letter to us. Danny says he’s doin’ well for himself an’ he sent us some money too, a banknote for five pounds. The father’s going to change it into real money for us. Paper never looks worth anythin’ to me. Not that we need it, mind – we’re managing fine – but it’s a lovely thought for him to send it. And Annie, oh, Annie, best of all, Danny says he’ll be comin’ home to visit us in a few weeks, takin’ a little holiday, like.” She wiped her eyes at the thought.
“He must be doing well for himself, then.”
“Aye, he must. But he was always the clever one. An’ to think how I cried when he went for a navigator to build them railways!” She dabbed at her eyes again. “Me and my Michael, we went and lit a big sixpenny candle to the blessed Virgin yesterday, to thank her for bringin’ him back to us.”
Ignoring possible damage to her new clothes, Annie hugged Bridie and kissed her cheek. “I’m so glad for you!”
That good news made her forget her own appearance and helped carry her through the morning’s shopping. She put a little card into the window of Hardy’s, the draper’s, to say that Mrs Ashworth would be pleased to do dressmaking or alterations for ladies, and would attend them in their own homes. Mr Hardy agreed to send her word by one of the street urchins if anyone was interested. She also bought trimmings for her other new dresses, and was waited on with flattering attention by the proprietor, because, if Mrs Ashworth was setting up as a dressmaker, she could bring him more custom. Annie was not sure that she liked his fulsome manner or the way his hand lingered on hers as he handed over her parcel, but she knew she could not afford to alienate him, so she gritted her teeth and said nothing. She noticed that Mrs Hardy was watching them and scowling from the back of the shop.
As she was coming out of Hardy’s, Annie bumped into Jeremy Lewis and the latter’s patent astonishment and approval set the seal on her day.
“My dear Mrs Ashworth! How – er – well you look!” He always addressed her formally in public, though it was ‘Annie’ in private.
Several heads turned in their direction.
Flushing slightly, she shook hands with him. “Mrs Hinchcliffe said I should dress better,” she confided with unaccustomed shyness.
“Then we must all be grateful to her, because you look lovely.”
She went even redder. “It’s for business purposes,” she said, trying for a less personal tone. “I’m hoping to start doing some proper dressmaking and – and so I need to show what I can do by what I wear. But I mustn’t keep you. I have a lot of things to do.” She hurried off down the street, both pleased with and embarrassed about the success of her new outfit. She didn’t notice Matt Peters come out of a side street and stop dead at the sight of her. Nor did she know that both he and Jeremy Lewis carried the image of the new Annie around with them for days.
Jeremy went on his way, worrying about Annabelle. She now spent the whole of each summer in Brighton, and since the most popular tourist season had unaccountably shifted to the winter months, she often went down for a few weeks then as well. She had not attempted to take Marianne with her again, and Jeremy would not have let her do so, but he was growing increasingly concerned that the amount of time she spent away from her family would give rise to talk.
Thank goodness his daughter had Ellie Peters to look after her when she was not at school! The relationship between Ellie and her charge was a strange mixture of mother, maid and friend, and no one realised better than Jeremy how important Ellie was to Marianne, who, at fifteen, spent little time with her mother.
Jeremy Lewis actively encouraged this close relationship with Ellie, who was warm, loving and not above having a bit of fun, for there were times, when an epidemic raged in the town, or when he went to attend a series of lectures in London, that he had to be away from home for longer than he liked. Annabelle didn’t interfere with Ellie, either. Apart from the fact that she was not greatly interested in her daughter, she knew that Jeremy would not have let her go away from home so often if Ellie had not been there.
Annabelle, who had continued to skimp on the house-keeping, now owned several properties in Brighton, one of which she kept permanently available for herself. That was the only one Jeremy knew about, believing it to have been purchased from the money her mother had left her. He had never visited it, nor did he question how she afforded its upkeep. He continued to live with Annabelle and to be seen with her socially solely for Marianne’s sake. Apart from that, as far as he was concerned, the less he had to do with his wife, the better.
Like many another person frustrated in his family life, he submerged himself in his work. He was becoming quite well known in the medical profession as a practical authority on the problems of pregnancy and childbirth, and had written a treatise on it that was standard reading for the new breed of doctors being trained in Edinburgh and London. He had followed with interest the work of a Viennese surgeon called Semmelweis, who was using antiseptics in his maternity wards, and who was finding a remarkable reduction in the number of mothers dying of childbed fever. Widow Clegg was the one who embraced his new methods most readily, for many of the women he treated regarded his antiseptic procedures with deep suspicion. He began to think longingly of founding a hospital where he could put more of his ideas into practice, but that was far beyond his purse. Somehow, his expenses always seemed to keep up with his income.
While Annabelle was indulging in her taste for reading melodramatic novels, Jeremy subscribed to The Lancet, which had first been published twenty years previously and which, as far as he was concerned, was crucial for country doctors like himself who wished to keep abreast of the times. He read its articles and papers with intense interest and occasionally wrote to their authors. He also, in 1842, began to develop a deep concern about sanitary conditions in the poorer parts of Bilsden, after he had read Edwin Chadwick’s report on The Sanitary Condition of the Labouring Population. Strangely, Frederick Hallam was the main person in Bilsden to share this interest, for he was attracted to the new ideas on urban cleanliness as he was attracted to every modern development in the cotton trade, especially its machinery.
Jeremy had been offered a number of teaching positions in universities, several of which had now established schools of medicine, but he had turned them down, for he preferred to do the work he loved rather than just talk about it. He knew of no greater thrill than to bring a child safely into the world or to win against one of the myriad illnesses that flared up in his town. From time to time, however, he did go away to attend a conference or agree to give a course of lectures, engaging a locum to cover the needs of his patients if he were to be away for more than a day or two. He needed, he told Sam, often his only confidant, to meet new minds and ideas.
Ellie rarely saw her family nowadays, except for her father. Elizabeth Peters had never really forgiven her for taking Annie’s side against Matt. The Peters family moved out of Salem Street within a few months of Matt leaving home. Dr Lewis found them a nice cottage with its own garden closer to Park House and Elizabeth persuaded Matt to come home again, since he could now have his own bedroom. But he felt suffocated by his mother’s fussing and attention, and not all her tears and hysterics had persuaded him to stay. Like the doctor, he lived mainly for his work, but he was also a member of the newly-founded Bilsden Mechanics’ Institute, a grand name for a group of men who met in the Church Hall. He occasionally attended a lantern show with these new acquaintances, or a lecture. None of them were close friends, however, and he avoided eligible women like the plague.
As time passed, Matt saw Annie and the little boy around the town and that made him wonder yet again if he had made the right decision in rejecting her so arbitrarily, but by that time it was too late. She was married to that loathsome old man and she always looked happy and well-fed. Even her son, the fruit of sin and violence, was a pleasant-looking lad, with an intelligent face, the sort of boy any man would be proud to father. So, when he saw Annie that day in town, resplendent in her new clothes, it was like a blow to his heart and she once more began to invade his dreams.
Annie had long since stopped dreaming about Matt, and her dreams were filled with clothes nowadays, beautiful clothes in the latest styles, like those in Pauline’s magazines. As Pauline had prophesied, when women saw the new Annie in chapel or shopping in town, they began to wonder where she got her clothes. Since it was known that she did some sewing, albeit of second-hand garments, one or two women from the chapel ventured to ask her if she were now making new clothes for people. There were also one or two replies to her little card in Hardy’s window. Slowly she began to acquire a regular clientele. Miss Pinkley, for long Bilsden’s only real ladies’ dressmaker, joined the ranks of Annie’s critics and began to glare at her when they passed in the street or met in Hardy’s.
When Danny O’Connor did come home for the long-promised visit, a flushed and tremulously happy Bridie brought him along to meet Annie again, though as he was nearly ten years older than her, all she had known of him was an occasional kind word from a man to a child.
Danny had changed beyond recognition. Gone was the thin, gangling young man Annie vaguely remembered. He was now nearly six feet tall and broad-shouldered. The biggest surprise to Annie was that he looked and acted almost the gentleman, though his voice still had a touch of an Irish lilt in it, and his face and hands were more weather-beaten than a gentleman’s would be.
She felt a little shy as she shook hands with him. “Won’t you come in, and take a cup of tea with us, Mr O’Connor,” she said formally.
“Mr O’Connor, indeed!” said Bridie, giving him no chance to answer, but leading the way in. “And what’s wrong with callin’ him Danny, then? Isn’t that his name, and didn’t the two of you grow up together?”
“Hush now, Mam! If Mrs Ashworth wishes to call me Mr O’Connor, then sure, she has every right to do so in her own home.” A pair of astonishingly blue eyes twinkled down at Annie. “Unless you’d prefer to be calling me The Gentleman, for everyone has a nickname on the d
iggings and that’s mine.”
She couldn’t help smiling back at him. “Why do they call you that?”
“Oh, now you’ve really hurt me!” he exclaimed in mock anguish. “Can’t you see why? Aren’t I the best-dressed sub-contractor on the railways?” He bowed to the two ladies with a flourish and Bridie’s eyes overflowed with tears of maternal pride. He hugged her and grinned at Annie. “Will you look at me mam, now! She says she’s glad to see me, but she’s done nothing but weep all over me since I got back!”
Bridie gave him a watery smile. “Behave yourself now, Danny.”
But he continued to tease her. His high spirits were so infectious and there was so much laughing and bantering over the teacups that it was a while before the visitors were able to explain the reason for their call. Kathy and Alice, working in the kitchen, stared at each other in amazement as Annie’s clear laugh rang out time after time. Usually she was so calm and cool, rarely doing more than smile. They kept William with them lest he spoil the mood of the little party, for it was good to hear Annie laugh. They both worried about how unremittingly she always worked.
At last Bridie got round to the reason for their call. “Annie, love, Danny wants to buy me a dress – a new dress. He’s wastin’ his money on an old woman like me, but he’ll not take no for an answer.”
“I want to buy Mam two or three new dresses,” he said firmly, serious now. “She’ll need them for her new life.”
“New life?” Annie questioned.
“It’s – nothin’s settled yet, but he – our Danny …” Bridie couldn’t finish the sentence, for the tears were flowing again.
“Will you stop that, Mam!” He looked at Annie and shook his head ruefully. “It’s just that I want to buy a small farm. I don’t intend to stay on the railways all me days. A man gets tired of travelling. And who better to manage it for me in the meantime than me mam and dad?”
