The Buffer Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  It would have to come from Josh, she decided, as they all returned to their work, their dinner-time jaunt into the city foregone; what Lizzie had to tell them had been far more entertaining.

  But as they walked home that evening, Emily dared to say once again to Lizzie, ‘Look, I know you like Josh, but, as I told you, he’s engaged to Amy. You’re a good friend to our family, Lizzie. I like you a lot and I don’t want you to get your hopes up where he’s concerned and get hurt. That’s all.’

  Lizzie was silent for several moments and Emily held her breath, fearing the worst. But then a low, almost seductive chuckle came out of the dusk of the October evening. ‘Don’t you worry about me, luv. I know exactly what I’m doing and all I’ll say is, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” –’ she paused and then added, pointedly – ‘“of another”.’

  Emily drew in a deep breath but before she could say anything, Lizzie squeezed her arm and said, ‘And yes, I like you a lot, an’ all. And whatever happens between me and Josh, we won’t let it spoil our friendship. Agreed?’

  ‘All right, then, agreed, but—’

  ‘Look, Emily, I appreciate you being honest with me and I can see you’re worried about your friend Amy, an’ all, but look, luv, if Josh truly loves this girl, then he’ll give me my marching orders, now, won’t he?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’

  Emily couldn’t keep the doubtful note from her tone. Her brother was so nice; too nice, sometimes, for his own good, she thought. Would he really be strong enough to stand up to Lizzie’s wiles? Emily was very much afraid that he wouldn’t have the streak of ruthlessness needed to fend off the determined girl.

  Whenever she had an odd moment in the day – and there weren’t many for an errand girl – Emily watched Nell working. She was fascinated by the way the young woman picked up about half a dozen spoons in one hand, a fistful of the oily, damp sand in the other, and then leaned in to her wheel.

  Early in Emily’s second week of work, Ruth said, ‘Nell is going to let you have a go on her wheel at dinner break. She’s our best buffer girl, so you listen to what she tells you.’

  ‘Orreight, luv,’ Nell greeted her after Emily had set out all the dinners the girls had brought in and had mashed tea for them. ‘We’d better get you dressed up properly now, else you’ll get covered in muck. Missus is lending you ’buff-brat and head rag you’re wearing, but if she starts you proper on the buffing, you’ll need to buy your own.’ Emily glanced at what the other girl was wearing. Nell wore an old dress beneath the buff-brat, the short-sleeved, white calico overall, which fastened with ties at the back so that it was easy to take off if it got caught in the spindle.

  ‘Right, lass. Fasten your sleeves to your shoulders with safety pins and then fasten this red cloth round your head like the missus showed you last week. That’s it. When you’re buffing, you can either tie the two ends on top of your head or leave them down to wipe your face with. Gets right hot in ’ere. But you’ve got to wear one. It’s to protect your hair. We don’t want that lovely blond hair getting caught, do we?’

  Nell was a bit older than the other girls and they seemed to turn to her for leadership. Even the missus deferred to her on occasions.

  ‘When you buy your own buff-brats an’ that, be sure to get a red head rag. A white cap’d be nicer – we tried ’em once – but they get mucky so much quicker.’ Nell grinned, showing white, even teeth against her face, which was already covered with grime after only a morning’s work. ‘Orreight?’

  Emily nodded, not knowing how, at this moment, she was ever going to afford to buy the clothes she would need to become a proper buffer girl. Her mother needed every penny of the half-a-crown a week she was being paid now. So she listened carefully to everything that Nell told her. The sooner she could become a buffer girl and earn a little more money each week, the better.

  ‘Now,’ Nell went on, ‘put this coarse apron on over your buff-brat and then let’s tie the paper apron on you.’ For the first time, Emily put on one of the brown-paper aprons she’d been cutting out for the other girls and tied newspaper round her legs. ‘Missus might start you off as what we call a “rougher” – that’s just to get rid of all the dents and marks – so you’ll need a piece of sacking tucked in your belt. And then we fasten the other end to ’side. You’ll have to get used to all these funny names, Emily luv, else you won’t know what we’re talking about half the time.’

  ‘What’s it for?’ Emily asked. ‘The sacking?’

  ‘It catches the sand and stops it going all over the floor, and you can use it again to throw on the spoons and forks when you’re working. Now, watch what I do,’ she added, picking up a handful of spoons, ‘and don’t be frit. It’ll not bite thee.’

  ‘It might,’ Lizzie, overhearing, laughed loudly. ‘If she gets her fingers in the wrong place.’

  ‘You’d be better doing one at once,’ Nell mouthed to her above the noise of the machine. ‘Just to start with.’ Emily wondered if she’d ever be as proficient as Nell.

  They didn’t have long during the dinner breaks, but at the end of the week, Nell came up to Emily. ‘The missus says she’d like you to train properly as a buffer girl. She’s seen what you can do now, but it’s such a short time in just the dinner breaks and before she gives you a buffing wheel of your own, there’re a few more things you’ve got to learn. So, she’s said we can stop late after work for a few nights.’

  ‘You mean you as well?’

  Nell nodded.

  ‘Will she pay you for the overtime?’

  Nell threw back her head and her raucous laughter echoed round the workshop. ‘Not likely.’

  ‘I couldn’t expect you to work late just – just to help me.’

  ‘Why ever not? We all help each other.’ Suddenly, all jollity had gone from Nell’s tone and she was very serious. ‘Mebbe there’ll come a time when I’ll need some help. You never know what life’s got in store for you, luv. I’ll teach you all I know, Emily, and I can do most of the processes a buffer girl’s ever likely to need. I learned a lot in the war when the fellers went away – things they wouldn’t normally let girls do.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘It’s a horrible thing to say, but the war did a lot of good for women. We’ve earned some respect. They’re even saying that we’re all going to get the vote one day.’

  But Emily’s thoughts were still on the training that Nell was offering. ‘If you’re sure, I’d be so grateful.’

  ‘Right, then, you tell your folks that for the rest of this week, and probably a couple more after that, you’ll be home a bit later. And I’ll tell my mam.’

  ‘You still live at home?’ Emily ventured. She knew very little about the other girls, and had only picked up snippets of information about their lives outside work. There wasn’t much chance for her for conversation when the noisy machines were going full pelt, for she was hopeless at the lip-reading everyone else managed to do.

  ‘Yes,’ Nell said shortly and turned away, deliberately, it felt, cutting off any further questions.

  At the end of another week, Nell told her, ‘You’re coming on really well, Emily, though there’s still quite a lot I need to teach you, but I’ll tell missus that I think you’ll soon be able to work a wheel on your own. She’ll give you all the easy jobs to start with, and then you’ll move on to roughing. Don’t forget you have to melt ’resin in a pan and dribble it over the leather buff and then let it set hard before you start like I’ve shown you.’ Nell grinned at her. ‘I know there’s a lot to remember, luv, and you’re only learning one or two processes at the moment, but you look as if you’re a quick learner, though don’t expect to earn a lot to start with, will you? You’ll be slower than the rest of us, but we all are when we start.’

  ‘What about my work as an errand girl? Who’s going to do that?’

  Nell laughed. ‘That’s partly the reason we’re training you up. Someone your age shouldn’t be on such low wages anyway, and Ida’s just told us she’s
got a niece who’s itching to leave school and start work here. Mrs Nicholson promised her that if you prove yourself at the buffing, she’ll set Milly on as the new errand girl. And now, we’d best get ourselves home. Our families will be wondering where we’ve got to.’

  And my mam will be in a right old temper because I’ve not been there all week to help with Dad, Emily thought, but she said nothing. Perhaps her mother would be mollified a little by the thought that, hopefully, Emily would be bringing home a little more in her wage packet from next week.

  They left the workshop and parted outside to go in opposite directions. Emily set off, her eyes gradually becoming used to the darkness as she entered the warren of alleyways that led to the court where she lived. They were dark, dismal back alleys, with rats running over discarded rubbish. She didn’t like walking this way home, but it was the quickest route. She turned a corner and almost ran into someone. Strong hands gripped her shoulders.

  ‘Well, well, look what we have here, lads. A buffer girl still dressed in all her muck. But looks like she’s game for a bit of sport, if you’re not too fussy.’

  Three other lads surrounded her and her heart pounded in fear. It had been very stupid of her to come this way, especially at night-time. Her anxiety to get home as quickly as possible had robbed her of her common sense.

  She was still being held fast, her arms pinned to her sides, as the youth pulled her to him and searched for her mouth, planting a wet kiss on her lips. Then he began to fumble with the fastenings of her blouse. Struggling, she tried to pull herself free, but he held her fast. She kicked his shins and he yelped in pain, released her with his right hand, but drew it back and smacked her on the left side of her face.

  ‘Ya little bitch! I’ll teach you to—’

  ‘Let her go.’ Another voice came out of the darkness behind her attacker, a firm authoritative voice.

  ‘Huh?’ The young man holding her turned slightly to look at whoever had spoken. ‘What you on about? Oh, I see, fancy her yourself, do ya?’

  ‘It’s not that,’ the voice came again, and then he came closer and in the dim light Emily could just make out his features. She recognized him even before he said, ‘It’s Emily from our court. She’s a mate of my sister’s. So you just let her go, Pete, else I just might get a bit cross. And you don’t like me when I’m angry, do you?’

  The youth released Emily as if he’d been stung – so suddenly that she almost lost her balance. ‘Sorry, Mick. I didn’t know. I just thought she was some slag out for—’

  ‘Well, she isn’t. She’s a nice girl. Not that you’d know one if you met one, Pete. Nice girls don’t go for the likes of you.’ He stepped closer and took Emily’s arm, but now it was in a friendly, concerned way. ‘You orreight, luv?’

  ‘Yes – yes. Thank you, Mick.’

  ‘Think nothing of it, but you shouldn’t be out in the alleyways on your own at this time of the night. Tell you what, I’ll walk you home.’

  ‘Oh really,’ Emily began to protest – she didn’t want to be any more in the Dugdales’ debt than her family already was – ‘there’s no need.’

  ‘There’s every need, if you meet another thug like Pete here. Come on.’ He tucked her hand through his arm and began to lead her out of the alley. He turned briefly to call over his shoulder, ‘I’ll see you later, lads.’

  As they moved away, Emily was sure she heard her attacker mutter, ‘He does want her for himself. I knew he did.’

  ‘So,’ Mick asked as they walked side by side, pressed close together in the narrow alley. ‘How do you like the big, bad city?’

  Emily, recovering from her fright a little, forced a laugh. ‘Until just now, I really liked it. It’s bustling and exciting and oh, there’s so much to see and do. But yes, you’re right. I shouldn’t have been walking home this late on my own, but I’ve been so used to just going out whenever and wherever I wanted at home, I – I didn’t stop to think.’

  It wasn’t far to the entrance to their court but Mick walked her right to the door of the Ryans’ home. ‘There you are, back home, almost safe and sound.’ They paused and turned to face each other. Mick touched her cheek gently. ‘I hope that ruffian didn’t hurt you.’

  ‘No, I’ve had worse slaps than that in my time,’ she murmured and thought, From my mother, if the truth be told. ‘But thanks, Mick. I – I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.’

  For a moment his face was grim. ‘Something not very pleasant for a nice lass like you.’ He stared at her through the darkness and then appeared to shake himself before adding, ‘Night, then, I’ll be off.’

  ‘Night – and thanks.’

  He was already halfway across the yard. He didn’t turn but merely waved his hand in acknowledgement.

  ‘What time do you call this?’ was Martha’s only greeting. ‘Get yourself washed and come and help me.’

  Emily sighed and decided to say nothing about what had happened, but, later, she would tell Josh. They had better both be on their guard from now on.

  Sheffield, though a vibrant and exciting place, was not quite the safe little backwater she had been used to.

  Thirteen

  As autumn turned into winter, the house in the court became colder and damper. Washday on a Monday morning and trying to get the clothes dry if they could not be hung out in the yard, was a nightmare for Martha.

  ‘It’ll be your job to light the fire in the grate under the set-pot,’ she told Emily. ‘You’ll have to get up a bit earlier.’

  ‘The what?’

  Martha smiled. ‘It’s what Mrs Dugdale calls the copper.’ She pointed to the corner. ‘That monstrosity.’

  So on a Monday morning, as well as on a Saturday afternoon when she washed her own dirty work clothes, Emily rose at dawn to light both fires in the kitchen. Then, whilst she waited to be sure that they were fully alight, she fetched the tub, dolly and washboard from the cellar and, if the weather was bad, the clothes horse too. She sighed, hoping her father would be allowed to stay in bed whilst the kitchen was full of steam, especially if sheets, towels and all their clothes had to be strung on lines across the whole room. Sometimes, the steam helped his breathing, but at others, he ended the day shivering from the door being left open all day. It was hard work for her mother, Emily acknowledged that, but Martha never complained. It was all for Josh and, in her mind, it would one day be worth the hardship they had all endured.

  On a wet washday, the house seemed to smell constantly of wet clothes and Walter’s cough grew worse.

  ‘We should never have come here, Mam,’ Emily said, watching her poor father struggling for breath and hugging a blanket round him even though he was sitting as close as he could get to the range. She glanced at the fire and bit her lip, feeling guilty because she and Josh could not provide more coal.

  ‘He’s all right,’ Martha said impatiently.

  ‘We should have a doctor look at him.’

  ‘And where do you think I’m going to find the money to pay for a doctor when I can’t even feed us all properly? Josh needs his food. He’s doing a man’s work now. The rest of us can manage.’

  Emily had noticed that her portions were less than they had been and now she glanced at her mother. Despite the bulky winter clothes, she could see that Martha had lost weight. No doubt she was going short herself to feed Josh. Emily looked back at her father. He, too, looked thinner, if that was possible, she thought wryly. He looked even frailer every day and his hacking cough was painful even to listen to. Emily turned away and went out of the house, closing the door behind her. She had to do something. She had to bring more money into the house somehow.

  She had been working with Nell for four weeks now and the older girl said she was doing well. Dare she, she wondered, ask Mrs Nicholson if she would put her on a wheel now? She leaned against the rough brickwork of the house and dropped her head, tears prickling the back of her eyes.

  ‘You orreight, Emily?’ She started at t
he sound of Mick’s voice close to her. She hadn’t seen him come across the yard.

  ‘Yes – no, I mean . . .’

  ‘Well, which is it, ’cos I don’t like to see a girl crying, ’specially one as pretty as you.’

  Emily smiled thinly. ‘It’s just my dad is so very poorly and – and he ought to have a doctor, only—’ She bit her lip.

  ‘Only you can’t afford one. That it?’

  She nodded miserably, ashamed at having to admit her family’s difficulties. There were others far worse off than themselves. You only had to look at poor Rosa Jacklin, struggling to feed herself and her children with only her elderly mother-in-law to help. Impatient with her self-pity, Emily brushed away her tears and tried to smile. ‘Sorry, Mick. You caught me in a weak moment. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  Mick shrugged. ‘It’s orreight. That’s what mates are for.’ He paused and seemed to be thinking, a slight frown on his face. ‘Look, there might be a way I can help. I’ll have a talk to that brother of yours.’

  ‘Oh no, please, don’t. I – I don’t want him worried. He’s got enough to cope with.’

  Mick gave a bark of laughter. ‘With our Lizzie, you mean? Aye, well, I can almost feel sorry for the bloke, ’cos when she gets her claws into a feller, she don’t let go easy. Anyway,’ he reached out and pinched her cheek gently, ‘don’t you worry your pretty head any more. You leave it to Uncle Mick.’

  As he turned and walked away jauntily, thrusting his hands into his pockets and whistling, it wasn’t just the cold that made Emily shiver.

  That evening, there was a knock on their door and Emily opened it to find Mick standing there, his right hand holding the handlebars of a bicycle.