by Gracie Hart
‘My dear, don’t get upset. I’m sure we could come to some arrangement; payment doesn’t always have to be made in money. Perhaps you could secure the rent on your cottage in a different way if you know what I mean and, if you decide to do so, perhaps I could overlook the money owed by Bill Parker. After all, as you say, it does seem to be a little unfair on you.’ Edmund walked over to the chair that Mary-Anne sat in and ran his hand over her long auburn hair.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Mary-Anne said indignantly, though fully aware of what he was implying. ‘Please don’t touch me.’
‘Think about it, my dear. Come visit me twice a month and you would not have the worry of how the rent was to be paid. I’d even supply your home with free coal, so that you are kept warm. No one need know about our little arrangement.’ Edmund ran his finger around Mary-Anne’s worried face and grinned at her. He breathed in deeply, recognising the scent as the same soap her mother had used. ‘Perhaps you’d like some time to think about it; after all I don’t want to force you.’ Edmund went to sit back down in his chair and glanced over at the daughter of his old lover. She was far more beautiful than Sarah had ever been and so young and ripe for the plucking. He’d have to treat her better than he had her mother, perhaps use one of the rooms at his gentleman’s club in Leeds to do his entertaining.
‘I’m not a common prick-pincher, I don’t sell my body to anyone.’ Mary-Anne stood up, shocked by Edmund’s conduct and lecherous suggestion. How could he even think that of her? She could think of nothing worse.
‘I’m not suggesting that you are either common or a prostitute, my dear, but without the rent money you will lose everything and that little second-hand dress shop in the middle of Woodlesford will not keep you and your sister fed and a roof over your heads. Indeed, I will recommend that my daughter reclaims her money back as she was sold the dress from you that she showed me as new, when we both know it was second-hand from one of your, let’s say, dubious suppliers.’ Edmund grinned, knowing that without the money his daughter had given them the two sisters had not a penny to their name. ‘Perhaps you need time to think about it?’ Edmund repeated as he sat back in his chair and looked at the horror on Mary-Anne’s face as she knew not what to say. ‘Should we say, after Christmas, so that you can enjoy the festive period in peace?’
Mary-Anne reached for the door. ‘I’d say good day, sir, but you are no gentleman and you don’t deserve to be called sir. I will return after Christmas, but with the rent money in my hand and not to be yours just for the taking.’ Mary-Anne spat her words at him. ‘I will not be bought.’ Closing the door behind her, she pulled her shawl around her and put her head down, not looking up as she quickly made her exit from the pithead. How could that dirty old man even think of such a suggestion to her? She had to keep her respectability, but how to make the amount of money she needed in order for her and Eliza to survive? Especially if Grace Ellershaw returned the dress as her father had threatened. Just what she was going to say to Eliza she didn’t quite know, but she must never know about Edmund Ellershaw’s filthy suggestion.
Twelve
Eliza looked at her sister’s horrified face. She’d only done what she thought was right, as she had thought that Mary-Anne was going to return with enough money to pay for the extravagance.
‘You should have waited, instead of banking on me returning with money.’ Mary-Anne looked at the array of sausages, bacon and faggots that Eliza had decided to buy while Mary-Anne was at the pit. But that was not all she had bought, for, along with the meat, there was a selection of Christmas presents for their next-door neighbours, a token thank-you Eliza had thought for their invitation to the Christmas dinner – albeit, just an ounce of tobacco for Bert and a handkerchief for Ada, but it was money spent that they could now ill afford.
‘I thought that you’d be returning with Bill’s wages. I should have known that Tom would be right and that Edmund Ellershaw had got it wrong.’ Eliza realised that she had spent too much of the guinea that was to have given them security for the next month.
‘Well, he gave us nothing. He’d looked at his books wrongly.’ Mary-Anne sat with her hands in her head and breathed in deeply. She hadn’t told Eliza everything; it was pointless to make her worry, but Eliza’s good heartedness had caused Mary-Anne more worry than she would ever realise.
‘I’m sorry, Mary-Anne. I only thought that for once we could eat decent for a day or two – after all it is Christmas.’ Eliza knew she had done wrong.
‘I wouldn’t mind but you don’t even like Ada and Bert Simms, you were the first to complain about having to go around to them. And then you go and spend our hard-earned money on them. They would have understood if we had brought them nothing.’ Mary-Anne looked across at her sister and could have cried.
‘I’ll try and make it up to you, Mary-Anne. In fact, while you were at the pit, Grace Ellershaw paid us another visit. She looked around the shop and said she would be back.’ Eliza tried to cheer her sister up but was more worried when the mention of Grace upset her even more.
‘What did she say? Did she mention the dress we sold her?’ Mary-Anne could only think one thing: that she had called in to see if her father was right and to return the dress post-haste.
‘No, she just wanted to know if we could make her a dress soon. I told her that we hoped to have a new stock of material in, into the new year, and she seemed quite happy. I couldn’t really talk to her long as Minnie Armstrong was waiting to see if our mother’s skirt was her size.’ Eliza watched her sister’s face go ashen. ‘I was polite; she will be back.’ She tried to reassure her older sister. ‘She liked that dress so much.’
‘Did Minnie buy Mother’s skirt?’ Mary-Anne hoped that perhaps some of the lost money had been recouped.
‘No, but she did buy a string of beads that were our mother’s for a penny. I’m sorry, Mary-Anne; I should have waited for you to come back with the money in your hand.’ Eliza felt so guilty. ‘I could take the handkerchief back, if that would help?’
‘No, that would only get folk talking. What’s done is done now. We are just going to have to make the most of what we’ve got. It isn’t your fault, Eliza, it is that bloody Edmund Ellershaw. He made both our hopes rise and I don’t blame you for buying what you did. I’ll look forward to the sausages, they’ll be a real treat.’ Mary-Anne smiled at Eliza but deep down inside she could have wept. Edmund Ellershaw’s words echoed in her ears and the thought of having to go back to him once Christmas was over and let him have his way with her was beginning to look like the only way out of financial ruin for her and Eliza.
Christmas morning dawned cold and frosty and both Mary-Anne and Eliza woke up to see the intricate patterns of fern leaves made in ice crystals on the window panes of their home.
‘I don’t want to get out of bed, Eliza. It’s so cold,’ Mary-Anne said as they huddled together for warmth.
‘I don’t want to get up yet either, you kept me awake most of the night, tossing and turning. Why didn’t you sleep last night? Were you worrying about money?’ Eliza turned to her sister and stroked her long auburn hair while waiting for an answer.
‘I used to like Christmas when I was younger, everything was magical and it was the one time of the year we were all together and no matter how little we had, our mother always had a full table and had managed to either make or buy a present for us both. Now I realise how much it must have cost her in more ways than one. But just for that one day she must have forgotten all her worries and enjoyed the day. Even after Father died and she married Bill, Christmas was different to the rest of the year. He usually didn’t get too drunk and he even used to play blind man’s buff with us and enjoy his dinner. Those days have gone, haven’t they, Eliza? We only have one another, and then I moan at you for buying a pound of pork sausage and a few cheap presents. I’m sorry, my dear sister.’ Mary-Anne hugged her sister tight. ‘You know I’d do anything for you.’
‘I know, Mary-Anne, and I will
always be there for you. Things will get better in time; I just know they will.’ Eliza kissed her sister on the cheek and noticed that she was nearly crying. ‘Let’s make the most of today, just like we used to do. Old Mrs Simms will have a good spread; she and Bert don’t seem to go without.’
‘Mmm … at least we will come home with our bellies full.’ Mary-Anne turned away from her sister and gazed across at the frosted window. She would make herself enjoy today no matter what was to become of her in the future, because now she had decided what she was to do and it was nothing to feel proud of.
‘Come in my dears, happy Christmas!’ Ada Simms welcomed her neighbours in to her home and showed them into her parlour.
Bert was sat next to the blazing fire, contentedly smoking his pipe with his legs resting on the fire’s brass fender, warming his feet.
‘Now then, lasses, happy Christmas. Come and make yourselves warm. It’s a bit parky out there today.’ The ageing miner smiled at both girls as they sat down on the settee that nearly took up all the room in the small parlour. He’d always wanted children of his own, but him and Ada had never been blessed.
Eliza looked around her; she’d never been in the Simms’ parlour before, and she was amazed at the opulence in it compared to theirs. The wallpaper was a rich red and Staffordshire pottery adorned every nook and cranny. Two large lions with their mouths open in a roar particularly took her eye, and she looked at them thinking how hideous they looked, almost looking as if they were grinning at her. ‘Ada, get our guests a drop of your ginger cordial; that will warm the cockles of their hearts up.’
‘Would you like some help, Mrs Simms?’ Mary-Anne looked at their neighbour, dressed in her Sunday finery.
‘No, dear. You sit back and enjoy the warmth. The pork is in the oven, along with the potatoes, and I’ve swede and carrots on the boil. Along of course with a plum pudding. You’ve just got to have a plum pudding at Christmas.’ Ada shuffled off to the kitchen to get the drinks, leaving the two girls with Bert who went quiet as he puffed on his pipe.
‘We are grateful for your invite today, Mr Simms,’ Mary-Anne said, breaking the silence. ‘And Eliza and myself have brought you this small present.’ Mary-Anne stood up and passed the ounce of Kendal Twist tobacco, wrapped in Christmas wrapping, to Bert.
‘Aye lasses, you shouldn’t have got us anything, we didn’t expect anything from you both. Money will be tight enough at your house this year. And with your mother dying and Bill buggering off, dinner was the least we could do.’ Bert held the present in his hand and felt a sorrow for the two lasses sat across from him. No matter what kindness they were able to show their neighbours, it could never make up for their loss. ‘Look what these two have given me, our lass. I told them they shouldn’t have wasted their brass.’ Bert showed Ada the ounce of tobacco that he had unwrapped and smiled at them both while they thanked her for the small glass of ginger cordial.
‘Oh, my word, they shouldn’t have given you anything. If we can’t have you two at Christmas after the year you’ve both had, we don’t deserve all the good things the good Lord has given us. Besides, we have no family of our own, so it will make a pleasant change.’ Ada sat down in a chair opposite the two girls and sipped her glass of cordial.
‘We’ve got you this as well, Mrs Simms. Just a small thank you.’ Eliza passed Ada her parcelled handkerchief, and watched as she fought back a tear.
‘You shouldn’t have, really we didn’t expect anything.’ Ada opened the parcel and looked at the embroidered handkerchief. ‘That’s lovely, my dears, but as I say you really shouldn’t have. Now let’s go through to the kitchen and enjoy our dinner. The smell of the pork cooking is filling the house and I can’t wait another minute.’
‘Nay, I can’t either, and I bet these two have been thinking of it since they woke up this morning.’ Bert grinned at both of the girls and rose from his seat. ‘Come and fill your bellies, lasses, and then, before you go, Ada will put a basket of bits for you to take home. She’s been baking all day yesterday; there’s enough to fill an army in our kitchen and pantry. She’ll not see you go hungry.’
‘We can’t thank you enough,’ Mary-Anne told the elderly couple. ‘I don’t think either Eliza or myself were looking forward to today, now we have no family. And we both woke up this morning not wanting to face the day.’
‘Well, you can count on us being here for you. Bill was a law unto himself and we used to often worry about you two and your mother when we heard him coming home from the pub. But we didn’t like to interfere. And now he’s gone and your mother, God rest her soul, isn’t here to look after you both … you knock on our door if you need anything. It’s the least I can do for your late father. Now he was a good man. It was a bad day when he got killed at the pit.’ Bert had put up with Bill but knew he hadn’t been half the man that their true father was and had always felt sorry for the plight his neighbours were in, ignoring the gossip he used to hear about Sarah and her so-called relationship with Edmund Ellershaw, rumours he had never shared with his wife.
‘Thank you, Mr Simms, we will appreciate that.’ Mary-Anne smiled at the grey-haired, amicable old man.
‘Now, come on, sit down around our table and try and forget for an hour or two the year’s happenings, I promise you’ll not go home hungry.’ Ada Simms ushered Mary-Anne and Eliza into the kitchen and sat them down at the round table that she had laid out with her best china and cutlery. The kitchen was warm and homely, with the smell of pork roasting in the fireside oven and the kitchen window white from the steam that was rising from the cooking swede and simmering plum pudding. Eliza and Mary-Anne looked at one another and knew that they had misjudged the Simms. They weren’t nosy, they were more caring than anything and today they were grateful for the care and attention that the couple were lavishing on them. Eliza’s mouth watered as Bert carved the pork, its skin shone with pearls of juice and the roast potatoes that accompanied it were lovely – crisp and brown on the outside but soft and creamy on the inside. It had been a long time since both girls had enjoyed such a feast and for that they were truly grateful. Silence fell around the Christmas table while they all enjoyed every mouthful.
‘I’m so full, I’m fit to bursting!’ Eliza slumped in the chair next to the newly stoked fire in the kitchen back home.
‘How big a portion did she give us of plum pudding? And that sherry sauce … I didn’t expect that with her being a Methodist. I didn’t think they would be as bigger hypocrites as us.’ Mary-Anne began putting away the basket of baking, cold sliced meats and pickles that their neighbours had given them.
‘They both surprised me a lot. Our mother always accused them of being nosy, but perhaps if she’d got to know them better, she might have been surprised.’ Eliza sat back and patted her stomach.
‘I think it’s Bill that they didn’t like, even though he walked to work with old Bert every morning. Nobody liked him from what I can make out, he’d no respect from anyone. Do you think we should visit Mother’s grave tomorrow? I feel guilty at not showing her our respects today.’ Mary-Anne carried the gifted goods to the pantry and then sat in a chair opposite Eliza.
‘I suppose we could, and our father’s. But we’ve no flowers to put on them.’ Eliza looked into the flickering flames and wished her sister had not brought her back to reality.
‘I don’t think that will matter. They’d both understand, and, anyway, they wouldn’t last long with this frost, and where would we get them at this time of year? We’ll go tomorrow afternoon, then.’ Mary-Anne closed her eyes and felt the fire’s warmth, trying not to think too hard of what was to be in the future and to forget the past in the warm glow of the fire and the flickering of the oil lamp’s glow, sleep overtaking her as Ada’s dinner made her feel content.
‘You should have woke me up!’ Mary-Anne stirred and sleepily exclaimed as she heard her sister answer the door and a male voice join her as the visitor and Eliza came down the passage to the kitchen.
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�You looked content for the first time in days, I didn’t have the heart.’ Eliza smiled at her sister. ‘Look who’s come to visit.’ Eliza turned and beamed at Tom standing behind her.
‘Merry Christmas, Tom!’ Mary-Anne asked as she shook herself awake, ‘Have you had a good day?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Tom smiled at the sleepy Mary-Anne. ‘And you?’
‘Too good. Mrs Simms next door has fed us until we are nearly bursting – I’ve never known myself to go to sleep in front of the fire before.’ Mary-Anne stood up and looked at her younger sister who was placing the kettle on the fire.
‘I just thought I would call in; my mother thinks I’m taking a walk after our dinner. Which I am, it’s just your house is on my route and it would be rude not to call in and wish you a happy Christmas.’ Tom stood by the side of the table and watched Eliza’s every move as she quickly made him a cup of tea.
‘Do sit down, Tom, it will only take you a minute or two to drink your tea.’ Eliza pulled Tom a chair out from the table and urged him to sit down. She wanted him to stay as long as he possibly could; he’d made her Christmas just by calling around.
‘I can’t stay long, but this cup of tea is most welcome, a warm up before I return home.’ Tom gazed across the table at Eliza and blushed as their eyes met.
‘I’ll make myself scarce and leave you two for a minute or two while I go and brush my hair, I must look a terrible fright after waking up so quickly.’ Mary-Anne made her excuses and looked at the pair of lovebirds in front of her. She knew when she was not wanted, and if she had been Eliza she wouldn’t have wanted her sister to sit like a gooseberry between them. She left the kitchen and walked upstairs, listening to the young couple laughing and enjoying one another’s company. Eliza was lucky, she couldn’t help but think, as she climbed the stairs. She had a good-looking young man with good prospects interested in her, whereas she had nobody, and the future looked nothing but bleak to her.
