No Place for a Woman

by Val Wood

  ‘How very industrious of your father,’ William joked. ‘To employ his children.’

  ‘He says it’s ’onny way to teach us how to mek a living. His father had ’shop before him and his father kept a milch cow and a pig in his back yard in order to feed his family.’

  Joshua came over and stood in front of them. ‘Are we going to play cricket or what?’

  William got out of the picnic chair and stood up. ‘Yes, come along. Let’s get organized. Who wants to be captain? Shall we toss for it?’

  ‘Max!’ Stanley, Joshua and Edie all called out.

  ‘Lads don’t fall out if our Max is captain,’ Edie explained. ‘Cos he plays fair and doesn’t cheat.’

  ‘Max,’ Lucy piped up, although not knowing what a captain did. ‘Max!’

  Oswald stayed silent. At his London school it had always been best not to have an opinion in case it was the wrong one, and besides, he was overawed by this boy who seemed to be in charge and yet wasn’t a bully. He had hoped that it would have been just him and Joshua playing and Edie and Lucy running to fetch the ball back to them; he partly blamed his stepfather for forgetting to bring the bat for then he, Oswald, would have been in charge of it, but now, look, here was Max choosing two teams, tossing a coin and calling ‘Heads’.

  It wasn’t fair, he fumed. He was teamed up with Stanley who he didn’t know and Edie who was just a girl, and Joshua was with Max and granted they had no chance of winning because Lucy was on their team and wouldn’t know how to play because she was too young as well as being a girl, but it still wasn’t fair.

  For Lucy it was the best day of her life. She had found her hero. All other troubles and anxieties faded that day; Max had chosen her to play on his team and told her she could throw the first ball which she did and Oswald had missed by a mile. She threw another one and he missed that too and it hit the wicket, a short tree branch stuck in the ground behind him.

  ‘Out,’ Uncle William called, and Oswald threw the bat on the ground and marched off in a huff to sit next to his mother.

  Then it was Edie’s turn to bat and she hit the ball each time, sending it flying across the grass with Joshua running after it whilst Edie ran up and down counting. Lucy didn’t know what that was supposed to mean but Edie said it was a score and she’d scored six and so Lucy clapped her and said ‘Well done’ and her uncle laughed.

  When Edie was eventually caught out, it was Stanley’s turn to bat and Max took over the ball, to let Lucy have a rest, he said, and she was glad that he did as Stanley hit the ball very hard and they all had to duck and then everybody had to look for it under the bushes.

  When they eventually broke up the game to eat their picnic, everyone, apart from Oswald, agreed that it was the best day they had ever had.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The arrival of the governess was a turning point for Lucy and for Oswald. Miss Goddard came to the interview with excellent references and enquired about the children’s previous education before agreeing to take the position.

  ‘Lucy is only four,’ Nora Thornbury had explained to the plainly dressed young woman, ‘and is able to read a little, nursery rhymes and suchlike. We haven’t attempted to teach her but I understand that either her mother or father used to read to her; it’s only a short time since her parents died and we didn’t want to inflict lessons on her. Now, we believe it is time.’

  ‘So she was able to read at three? That is quite unusual.’

  ‘My son Oswald is able to read, of course,’ Nora continued, ‘but we wish to make him ready for next year when he will go away to school.’

  Miss Goddard frowned slightly. ‘Would you not prefer him to go to a local school until then? He’d be mixing with other children, which would better prepare him for boarding.’

  ‘Oh no! Oswald is rather delicate,’ Nora explained. ‘And we want him to have a good grounding in the three R’s so that he can keep up with the other boys.’

  Miss Goddard agreed to teach them both, but each with a different curriculum. She asked Lucy to read nursery rhymes to her and discovered that she wasn’t reading them but remembering, and when she saw that Lucy’s lips were trembling and her eyes filling with tears she guessed that these were the very rhymes that her mother or father had taught her. So she put away those books and brought some of her own and wrote some of the more difficult words on a blackboard, explaining what they meant.

  It was whilst she was doing this one morning that she noticed that Oswald was completely ignoring the blackboard and with his nose close to his exercise book was writing laboriously as she was speaking.

  ‘Oswald,’ she said, turning from the board, ‘will you please read out this new word I have written and explain to Lucy what it says and means.’

  Oswald squirmed in his seat and flushed. ‘She has to learn for herself,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t be expected to teach her.’

  ‘Will you then please open a new page in your book,’ she said, ‘and write down the meaning.’ She smiled encouragingly at the boy. ‘I’ll give you five minutes.’

  Lucy gazed at the new word and then with the tip of her tongue between her teeth she copied it into her own exercise book and put up her hand to speak.

  Miss Goddard put a finger to her lips and crossed her arms in front of her and Lucy did the same and waited. Miss Goddard waited too and when the five minutes were up went to stand by Oswald’s side. The page in his book was blank. Miss Goddard put a hand on his shoulder, but said nothing.

  ‘Lucy, will you kindly tell us what you think the word says and the meaning of it, please.’

  ‘Never-the-less,’ Lucy said eagerly. ‘I know it because Uncle William says it.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure what it means, though.’

  Oswald’s head snapped up. ‘It means anyway or anyhow,’ he said.

  Miss Goddard clapped her hands. ‘Well done, both of you,’ she said. ‘Very well done indeed.’

  Lucy and Oswald looked at each other across the table. Oswald gave a nonchalant shrug whilst Lucy smiled from ear to ear at their success.

  At the end of the afternoon, Miss Goddard sought out Mrs Thornbury. ‘I don’t know if you or your husband realize that it’s possible that Oswald is myopic and that the condition is holding up his education. I believe if you take him to your doctor for an examination and have him fitted with a pair of spectacles, his learning will come along in leaps and bounds.’

  The Thornburys were astonished to hear this but did as Miss Goddard suggested. When Oswald came out of the oculist’s surgery and stood outside the door, probably for the first time in his young life he had a smile on his face. At last, through the concave glass in his round tortoiseshell frames, he could clearly observe the world around him.

  A year later, after he had gone off to his new school, Lucy rather missed him. He had become more friendly than he had once been and she missed having a companion. Miss Goddard sometimes took her out for a walk to look at buildings of interest, or new ones being built, or sometimes across town to the River Hull to watch the shipping coming in from the Humber; and when they came to the ancient High Street Lucy eagerly told her she had been here before, because it was near here that Mary now lived.

  ‘I wish I could see Edie and Joshua again,’ she told the governess. ‘Last summer we all went to the park and played cricket and had a lovely time, but I suppose they’re back at school now.’

  Miss Goddard asked how old the children were; Lucy told her that Edie would be seven and Joshua nine. ‘He won’t want to play with me now,’ she added rather sadly. ‘He’ll be too old to play with girls.’

  ‘Perhaps we might ask if Edie could visit sometime,’ Miss Goddard said. ‘Maybe share a lesson with you?’

  Lucy looked up at her with such joy that the governess determined to do something about it. She approached Mr Thornbury and made an unusual suggestion.

  ‘Lucy would benefit greatly if she had a companion occasionally,’ she began. ‘Especially for lessons in, say, English c
onversation. I’m not suggesting that she should share lessons every day, but perhaps one or two days a week, if you agreed?’

  William scratched at his short beard. He liked this enterprising young woman; as she had predicted, Oswald had made great strides in his education since her suggestion that he needed spectacles, but was there a catch in this latest proposal?

  ‘Your fee …?’ he said hesitatingly. ‘I am Lucy’s legal guardian and administer her allowance only for her. I cannot under any circumstances—’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Miss Goddard interrupted. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that there would be extra to pay or that a fee should be charged for another child. It will not be every day in any case, and only if the parents and the school authorities allow it.’ She paused. ‘Lucy mentioned a little girl called Edie, a relation of your maid I understand?’

  ‘Edie. Ah, yes.’ He nodded. ‘A happy, jolly child. Mmm. I suspect they live in rather straitened circumstances.’

  ‘I gathered so, because of the area in which they live.’ Miss Goddard waited.

  ‘It’s a very nice idea,’ he murmured. ‘And the other child would benefit too; enormously, I should think. Yes, why not,’ he said with sudden conviction. ‘I’ll have a word with Ada; she’s the child’s sister. The family are all right. Good honest people.’

  Dolly Morris came in person to discuss the matter early one evening when both Mr and Mrs Thornbury would be at home. She was rather suspicious of their motive in asking Edie to join Miss Lucy for lessons, even though the two girls had spent time in each other’s company and become friends.

  ‘We’re not like you, sir, or you, madam.’ She nodded to Mrs Thornbury, who had sat silently and apparently disapprovingly throughout the interview. ‘And I wonder what advantage there’d be for my Edie?’

  ‘Improvement in her reading and comprehension, I would suggest,’ William said. ‘Miss Goddard is a very enthusiastic and resourceful teacher and it was her idea. Lucy had told her about Edie and Joshua.’

  ‘Joshua couldn’t come,’ his mother said firmly. ‘He needs a strong male hand to keep him in check, but our Edie, she’s a clever girl, very bright.’ She sat with her lips clenched and looked from one to another. ‘It could be ’making of her, but then what good would it do? She’d still be who she is, on ’bottom rung of ’ladder.’

  Nora took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Not so, Mrs Morris,’ she broke in. ‘We none of us know where life will take us or what’s in store. Edie might well thank you one day for giving her this opportunity.’

  ‘You think so, ma’am?’ Dolly gazed at her and appeared to ponder on this for a moment. ‘I like to think I do ’best I can for my bairns, but it’s not much.’ She stood up and William stood up too. ‘Well, thank you, sir, and you, Mrs Thornbury. I’m very grateful. I’ll speak to ’schoolmaster tomorrow and ask him if he’ll release her.’

  ‘And Edie?’ William asked. ‘Won’t you ask her?’

  ‘Won’t need to,’ she grinned. ‘She hates school. She’ll be glad to get away from it for a couple o’ days a week.’

  After she had gone, William turned to his wife. ‘Why the sudden change of heart?’ he asked. ‘I thought you were against the idea.’

  ‘I was at first,’ she said after a moment’s consideration. ‘It was when she said, “What good would it do? She’d still be on the bottom rung of the ladder.”’

  ‘I see,’ he said softly.

  ‘Do you?’ she murmured, and shook her head. ‘I’m not sure if you do. I wanted to tell her that when you’re on the bottom rung there’s only one way to go, and that’s up.’

  ‘You’re a kind woman,’ he observed. ‘But you always hide behind a stern demeanour.’

  She gave a whimsical smile. ‘It’s my armour,’ she said, and held out her hand, which he took. ‘And you are the only one to have ever found a way through it.’

  Lucy couldn’t contain her excitement. Edie was to come every Wednesday and Friday for lessons with Miss Goddard. She turned up alone on the Baker Street doorstep at a quarter to nine prompt on that first morning in October with a clean scrubbed face, her thick hair contained in two long plaits and a starched white apron over her dress.

  Her mother had said she was a clever girl but she stumbled over her spelling; not so with arithmetic. She was very sharp indeed with numbers, and on enquiring Miss Goddard discovered why. Edie did the household shopping for her mother most weekends; she could spot a bargain and knew the price of everything the grocer, greengrocer or butcher sold, and how much change she should receive.

  The tactics that the teacher then employed were to spell out items that Edie would recognize, such as potato not tatie, bread not bred, and flour not flower, explaining the difference between the two last by drawing a simple daisy.

  ‘Will I get ’cane, Miss, if I get ’em wrong?’

  ‘If you get them wrong, Edie,’ Miss Goddard smiled, ‘you will not get the cane.’

  ‘Will I, Miss Goddard?’ Lucy asked, and then, ‘What is the cane?’

  How sheltered she has been, Miss Goddard thought, and how worldly Edie is. They’ll be a good mix and will both learn through the other.

  Edie seemed to know much more about the town than Miss Goddard did, perhaps because she lived in the heart of it. She told them one morning that fencing was being put round the old Guildhall so that it could be demolished and foundations dug for the new one.

  ‘My da says it’s a bl— blinking shame and a waste o’ good money when there was nowt – nothing wrong with ’old one,’ she said. ‘And that ’money could have been put to better use.’

  Miss Goddard put down her chalk and sat at her desk. ‘Very interesting,’ she said. ‘Did your father suggest what else might be done with the money?’

  ‘Well, my ma said she could do wi’ some of it, and my da said there’d be no chance o’ that, but he said they should use it for housing for folk like us, and give us an indoor tap and our own privy instead of having to share with half a dozen others. By.’ She screwed up her face. ‘Sometimes there’s a right old stink.’

  ‘Hasn’t that already been discussed?’ Miss Goddard asked her. ‘I understood that many of the old houses were being pulled down and new housing built. I thought that was on the corporation’s agenda.’

  Edie’s eyes narrowed. ‘I haven’t heard of any adgender,’ she said. ‘But I’ll ask my da. He’ll know if anybody does.’

  ‘What does adgender mean?’ Lucy said. ‘And why haven’t you got an indoor tap, Edie? Do you have to go outside to wash your hands and face?’

  ‘Yeh,’ Edie said, ‘we do, except on a Friday and then Ma heats up pans of water on ’fire and fills ’tin bath in front of it. I’m ’first in cos I’m ’onny girl; it used to be Ada but she gets washed here now, and then it’s Charlie and then ’others scrap over who’s next. Adgender,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it’s a sort of list, is it, Miss? A sort of shopping list like my ma gives me, and if there’s not much money, then we have to decide what’s ’most important?’

  Miss Goddard felt a moment of pride and achievement. ‘Quite right, Edie. It is a list or a plan. If we’re ever going to do something special, it’s best to make a plan and prioritize, just as you do when out shopping; that means making a decision about what is the most important item on the list.’

  She could sense that both children were chewing this piece of information over. ‘Shall I put the two words on the board?’ she suggested. ‘I’m so pleased that you thought to mention them. They are such important, useful words that I know you will come across them many times in your lives.’

  ‘Yes, please, Miss,’ Edie said. ‘And what was that other word you said? Instead of thing? Item,’ she said triumphantly. ‘That’s what it was.’

  Miss Goddard turned to look at the girls when she had finished writing and saw that Lucy was counting the words and mouthing them. Then Lucy pressed her lips together and frowned. Suddenly her face cleared. ‘There’s another word, Miss Goddard,’ she be
amed. ‘You said decision!’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Although she would never admit it, Nora Thornbury was pleased that she had agreed to come and live in Hull. When William had first made the suggestion of moving there to live in his brother’s house for Lucy’s sake she had rebutted the idea, but after apparently reconsidering had agreed.

  In fact, the proposal had appealed immediately, but her nature, as she freely admitted to herself, was such that she never would, never could, appear to be compliant. Being controversial or opposing had always been her defence. She blamed her mother. At fifteen, they had locked horns when Nora realized that her mother wasn’t who she claimed to be and therefore neither was she.

  Her mother hadn’t been a widow left with a small child struggling to survive on a low income as Nora had been led to believe, but a woman who was kept. Whether or not Uncle Jack, who had kept her, was Nora’s father was debatable and probably unlikely, for she vaguely remembered other ‘uncles’ throughout her childhood, and on her mother’s sudden death from a virulent attack of influenza he gave Nora her marching orders, which he surely wouldn’t have done had she been his daughter. A week after the funeral she left the house with her few belongings: clothes, shoes and her mother’s gold necklace which she had secreted about her person, swearing to Uncle Jack, when he demanded its return, that she hadn’t seen it in years and she thought her mother had probably pawned it.

  Nora had never previously had a job of work, her mother constantly encouraging her to look above her station in life and find a husband of substantial means. She didn’t, however, tell her how she was to do that. To give Uncle Jack his due, he recommended her to a friend of his who ran a hostelry and needed someone to wash the glasses; she worked for him for a week whilst she gathered her thoughts as to what she would do next to keep body and soul together. She was just seventeen and a complete innocent although one with a sharp tongue and wit; these she had also inherited from her mother, the formidable Mrs Milburn.