Arriving home, Annie was pleased that the message on the grapevine had begun its surreptitious journey. As she busied herself with the baking of pies for tea, she reflected on Martha’s words. They were killers, all of them, and no they had never received monetary payment for any debts owed. The women’s gratitude and silence had been payment enough, but there was wisdom in Martha’s words.
Annie thought of her husband Charlie, and then of Martha’s children. Yes, she knew the ‘Wives’ would take care of them, but money would be needed in order for that to happen. Kath had her own money, but none of the others would ever ask for her to pay for the upkeep of their family. The thought of charging a fee or asking for a donation didn’t sit well with her, it felt dirty somehow. Not that doing away with someone’s husband wasn’t, but it appeared to shed a whole new light on things. Besides, it was only the really bad cases that would see that happen. Annie realised she was trying to rationalise this in her own mind. She couldn’t; she was – they were killers and there was no getting away from the fact.
It had been agreed that Kath would hold any money given over for ‘favours’ done as she had a better notion of finance than the rest of them, having dealt with her own. Everyone concurred that if anything should happen to Kath, such as being arrested, God forbid, then Violet would take over the financial situation in the interim.
Pies in the oven to bake, Annie sat with a cup of tea, pondering the plight of Primrose Woolley and whether she could contribute to the coffers.
A shout from Violet reached her ears, ‘Annie, it’s only me.’
‘Come on in, wench, I have cake fresh out of the oven and the tea is mashed.’
Watching Violet savour her slice of cake closing her eyes with the enjoyment of it, Annie waited. She had something to tell or ask and it would come in her own time.
‘Annie, I want to ask you something… well tell you something first.’
‘Oh ar,’ Annie said, her heart swelling with love for Kath’s girl, ‘and what would that be then?’
‘Well,’ prevarication hovered on Violet’s lips but then all in a rush it came out, ‘I don’t know if Mum told you, but Spencer Gittins has asked mother’s permission for me to marry him!’
‘What? Joshua Gittins’ lad?’ Annie asked, taken aback. Kath had not mentioned it to her, but then this was between mother and daughter.
‘Yes! The very same!’ Annie saw the emotions flicker across Violet’s pretty face. She had grown into a lovely young woman, why was Annie only noticing this now? Maybe the mention of marriage had triggered the observation.
‘Well now,’ Annie said, trying to find the words ‘And…?’ was all she could manage.
‘I wanted to ask your advice, Annie. What do you think I should do?’
Violet and Annie had always had a good relationship and they would often chat over a cup of tea, but this was quite another thing, asking her advice about marriage.
‘Well, now,’ Annie began again, ‘I’m not one for giving advice, as well you know, but I’d ask you these questions. Do you, or could you, love him? How would you feel about living with him rather than your mum? What about sleeping in his bed with him? And, don’t get upset, love, but what will happen if he finds out about what John Sligo did to you?’
‘Oh he knows already!’ Violet said matter-of-fact.
Annie’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the words.
Popping a bit of cake into Annie’s open mouth, Violet laughed as she related the conversation that had taken place between her mother and Spencer Gittins.
When she ended, Annie asked her question again, ‘Do you, or could you, love him?’
‘Yes,’ Violet gushed. ‘Oh, Annie, I think I could!’
‘Then that’s half the battle won!’ Annie declared. Seeing the meaning of it dawn on the girl, she quickly added, ‘The rest will come in time, if it is God’s will.’
Giving Annie a kiss and hug Violet set off home and Annie sat with silent tears coursing down her face happy at the trust shown in her.
The good Lord had not seen fit to grant Annie and Charlie any children and over the twenty years of their marriage her husband had never laid the blame at her feet. Whatever the reason, she had tried to come to terms with the fact she would never be a mother. Never hold and suckle a baby; never watch her child grow to adulthood; never see them marry and never have any grandchildren. The fact that young Violet had come to ask her for advice about marriage had her heart bursting with happiness and pride. Annie knew Kath would have suggested it and to share her daughter in this very important thing filled Annie with exquisite pleasure.
In bed that night Annie related to Charlie about Violet’s visit and as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, they both quietly wept their longing for children of their own into the darkness.
*
Within the week, as promised, the grapevine had done its work and it was reported back that Frank Woolley only employed workers in his factory; he had no outworkers. He relied on one buyer in Wolverhampton. Eggs and basket sprang to Violet’s mind on hearing this.
Passing this information on in the weekly gathering, the question was raised about how the group could interfere with the wholesaler buying of his nails from Woolley.
Kath said, ‘The buyer could always buy from Joshua Gittins.’
All eyes turned to Violet and she flushed to the roots of her hair. They were all, it seemed, in the ‘know’ regarding Violet’s proposal of marriage although to her knowledge nothing further had been said or done about the matter.
Joyce said, ‘Gittins’ Nails are more expensive though.’
‘Ar,’ Martha intervened, ‘that’s as maybe, but what if the quality was better from Gittins’?’
‘How do you mean?’ Annie asked not quite understanding the meaning behind the words. She had been busy inspecting her fingernails for chips or cracks.
‘Well,’ Martha said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, ‘what if, say, the quality of the nails made at Frank’s factory were suddenly to be inferior? In which case, the wholesaler would stop buying from Woolley’s, and look for another supplier. The only other big place making nails in Wednesbury is Gittins’.’ Excited realisation showed on each face as her words sunk in.
‘If we could carry this off,’ Annie asked, ‘and we shut Woolley’s place down, what would happen to the women from his factory? I mean, they’d be out of work and they wouldn’t thank us for that!’
Violet smiled, adding, ‘Well, if Gittins’ Nails had a regular big order from a new wholesaler, the one that Frank Woolley supplies at present, then Joshua Gittins would have to take on more workers – the ones laid off by Frank Woolley!’
‘Exactly!’ said Martha triumphantly. ‘The question now is whether the women of Woolley’s factory will go for the idea. It’s them, after all, who will be sabotaging the nails. I’m reliably informed Joshua Gittins pays his workers a higher wage, but it’s a risk.’
‘I’ll get the grapevine working again,’ Violet offered, ‘we’ll soon know if they’ll take the risk in support of the “Wives”.’
Fourteen
Spencer Gittins and Violet Clancy walked over the heath many times in the following days, with Mary and Annie trailing behind. Knowing her history and the abuse Violet had endured at the hands of John Sligo, they were all very protective of her, for which she was grateful.
The weather was still warm and the prediction of an ‘Indian summer’ was proving to be correct. Early morning mists were burned off by the sun and days seemed long and endless. The trees were slow to drop their multicoloured leaves and insects still buzzed busily in the hedgerows. The blue sky was dotted with white fluffy clouds floating lazily past.
Mary and Annie were chatting and laughing behind the couple as they strolled in the sunshine on their latest jaunt across the heath when Spencer said, ‘I meant every word I said to your mother, Violet; I suppose she did tell you?’
‘I heard,’ was all she said.
> Spencer had been true to his word and not pushed Violet as she appeared to be happy taking things slowly. However he had a sense of their relationship becoming ever more serious and so had plucked up the courage to ask for her hand again. His excitement was getting the better of him and he was eager to know one way or the other.
Nodding, he asked her to consider his proposal of marriage and if her answer should be a refusal, he would abide by his promise to her mother to not meet with her again, although it would break his heart to do so. Violet told him she would consider it and would not keep him waiting too long for her answer.
Slowly, as they walked and talked, Violet began to relax in his company and all too soon it was time to part. Spencer thanked Annie and Mary for taking time out of their busy lives to chaperone them, as he always did, before requesting that all the families join him for a picnic in the grounds of Gittins Manor the following weekend.
On the Sunday morning of the picnic, Kath gave her daughter a package. Opening it, Violet discovered a beautiful dress of pale lemon linen covered with lace, a lemon ribbon tying at the waist.
Kath bound her hair up pinning it securely and when she saw herself in the mirror Violet gasped with pleasure.
‘Oh Violet,’ Kath said with tears in her eyes, ‘you look so beautiful; I’m so very proud of you.’
Joining with the other families, they all wandered down Hobbins Street, up through Meeting Street and into Trouse Lane before reaching Gittins Manor. The grand house with its pillars flanking the front door seemed huge. The windows either side of the door glittered in the sunlight as did the bedroom ones. The tiled roof spread out with two chimneys sprouting from it. Tables full of food and drinks were laid out on the expansive lawns. A sandpit had been specially dug out under a shady tree for the younger children to play in and with the huge gates closed, everyone was safe inside the high walled garden. A peg was hammered into the lawn for the men to play horseshoes, should they feel the need of a little rivalry, whilst comfortable seating was set out around the tables for the women to enjoy their conversation but enabling them to keep an eye on both their children and their men.
Spencer led Violet to a food table where an older man stood. ‘Violet, this is my father Joshua Gittins. Father, meet Violet Clancy.’
The man turned, a smile plastered across his face. ‘I’m pleased to meet you Violet,’ he said. Then turning to Spencer, he added, ‘You were right, son, she is a beauty.’ He boomed his laughter and Violet immediately warmed to him.
‘Mr Gittins,’ she said with a smile.
‘Joshua – my friends call me Joshua.’ He grinned.
After a brief chat, Spencer led her away again to refresh her glass of lemonade.
Violet had been nervous about meeting Spencer’s father, but the man had instantly put her at her ease. She liked him – very much. She had been in awe at first sight of Spencer’s house with its servants. Then she’d thought about her feelings for the man and realised they were growing in intensity.
Everyone enjoyed their fill of food, drink and fun, and as darkness began to descend, the maids lit the candles in small jars hanging from the tree branches and on the tables, bathing the area in a fairy light glow.
Having had Spencer’s undivided attention for the whole day, Violet walked home with her mother in a dreamlike state. She wondered now if what she was feeling was love. She found herself eagerly awaiting Spencer’s arrival whenever they went for walks on the heath, her excitement reaching fever pitch. She took special care of her appearance on the days they were to meet. She thought about him all the time they were apart, wondering where he was and what he was doing. He had maintained his gentlemanly behaviour at all times, and Violet relaxed with him more as time went on. She thrilled in the knowledge that Spencer felt the same way about her, and soon it would time to reply to his proposal.
*
The women working at Woolley’s factory sent their answer via the grapevine in the market. It was a resounding yes! They had agreed – every last one of them! A consignment of nails would reach the wholesaler but the batch would be inferior and not fit for purpose. The iron was to be heated as usual, but not quite enough so they would have tiny fractures at the junction between the shank and head; they would look normal but the heads would come loose on being used.
Frank Woolley, it was known, treated his workers with disdain and disregard. The women worked shifts and were paid next to nothing for their hard work. Woolley allowed them no time off to see to their sick children and he insisted they worked six days a week only allowing Sundays off because it was the Lord’s Day of rest.
Joyce had said in the meeting that Joshua Gittins, on hearing of Woolley’s rulings, had made a new ruling himself. Saying that his ‘ladies’ in the factory would be given Saturdays and Sundays off work should they wish to take them. The money they were paid would not be affected, and anyone wanting time off for a good reason – it would be granted. The rivalry between the two nail-making giants had been evidenced over the years and this latest episode proved no exception.
The ‘Wives’ gathered once more in Kath’s kitchen where everyone was still gushing over the good time had at the picnic. Kath called everyone to order and the meeting began.
Violet asked when the plan was to be put into action and was told it was already in force. It was just a case of waiting to see the reaction of the wholesaler on his consignment of inferior nails.
Violet was to ascertain as much information as possible from Primrose in the market about whether Frank’s business was suffering and if their plan was working. It would not seem out of place that two women who had attended school together would stop and chat while shopping.
The talk at the meeting centred solely on Primrose’s predicament until eventually it turned back to the picnic and Violet.
Annie asked, ‘Violet, wench, have you decided yet on an answer for Spencer?’ The love shone from her eyes as she asked and Violet saw her mother stiffen.
‘I have,’ she said and left it at that. Looks passed from Violet to Kath and back again.
‘Well, sweetheart, what have you decided?’ Kath asked nervously.
‘I’m going to say yes, but…’ Looking at each woman in turn, Violet went on, ‘If I’m unhappy for any reason, I want to be sure I can come home to you, Mum.’
As she flung her arms around her daughter, Kath said, ‘You can always come home, for a visit or for good. I pray you’ll have a happy marriage, but God forbid you don’t, we’ll all be here to welcome you.’
Hugs and kisses later, the talk of wedding plans began.
‘Before we plan a wedding,’ Violet said amid the joviality, ‘might it not be a good idea to tell Spencer he’ll be getting married?’
Kath said, ‘Oh yes, you’re right! You know Spencer’s father may want to be involved.’
Everyone howled at Violet’s expression of horror at the thought of a man trying to organise a wedding. Annie hugged her, saying, ‘Don’t you worry, gel, we’ll keep him in check.’
Just then a knock came on the kitchen door and Kath, answering it, came back through with Spencer trailing behind her. He was given tea and cake before Violet spoke.
‘Spencer,’ she said shyly, ‘regarding your proposal of marriage…’ He looked from Violet to Kath, then each woman in turn. Returning his eyes to Violet, she went on, ‘I have reached a decision and the answer is… yes!’
Jumping out of his seat slamming cake plate and cup and saucer on the table, he threw his arms around her waist; lifting her high, he swung her in a circle.
‘Violet, may I kiss you?’
Blushing scarlet, Violet nodded and Spencer, at the smile from her mother, placed a tender kiss on Violet’s cheek. Applause rang out as he took Kath’s hand, and kissing the back he said, ‘I promise to look after Violet, she will never suffer harm by my hand or any other’s. I promise she will be safe with me and loved by me all her life.’
Poor Spencer then endured the tears, hugs and k
isses from Joyce, Annie, Mary, Martha and even Kath, who whispered to him, ‘I’ll hold you to that, young man!’
*
Lying in bed that night with the house quiet around her, Violet thought about her forthcoming marriage. Would it turn out to be terrible like Primrose’s? Or her mother’s awful marriage to Sligo? Or would she be lucky and have a married life like Annie’s, being loved no matter what? The saving grace for her was that she knew she could return home at any time.
Violet thought how wonderful it would have been for her beloved father, Harry, to have walked her down the aisle. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye as she thought how proud he would have been to see her marry. She still missed him dreadfully and the pain of her loss stabbed in her chest. Wiping away the tears now flowing freely, she moved her thoughts to Primrose.
Violet would no doubt see her in the market in the next few days and they might know the outcome of the first batch of inferior nails, which were to be ‘of no fit purpose’.
Violet felt sure that Frank Woolley would rant and rave before having the women make another batch of nails… which would also be inferior, unbeknown to Frank Woolley. A smile crept over Violet’s face before she fell into a deep sleep.
*
Primrose was smiling when Violet intercepted her in the market a couple of days later. ‘Frank was raving mad…’ she whispered, ‘his wholesaler played hell with him; refused to pay for the last batch of nails, saying they weren’t up to standard! The wholesaler had three different complaints from customers and Frank was told his workmanship was shoddy!’
‘Oh blimey! But that’s good,’ Violet said out of the side of her mouth, ‘our plan is working.’
‘Yes.’
Violet touched Primrose’s arm and she winced.
‘Oh Primrose, did he beat you again?’ Violet’s heart went out to her as she remembered the sting of Sligo’s belt on her own back. She searched Primrose’s face for any outward signs of Frank’s abuse but there were none. She wondered if the man was too sly to allow any bruises to show.
The Wives’ Revenge Page 8
