Daughter of the Dales

by Diane Allen

  ‘Oh, Rosie, is that why you were feeling so ill last night? I lay awake and worried about you into the early hours, but now I know it was that, I feel better. It’s a woman’s curse, for sure, and something that we have all to bear. Mary would have understood; and besides, there is no reason for her to come into your room. You need not have rushed to wash them. Are you feeling better this morning?’ Harriet put her arm around Rosie and kissed her on the brow.

  Rosie held her tightly. She wanted to confess all, but didn’t say a word about her ordeal. She put her head on her mother’s shoulder and smelled the perfume that Harriet wore, the perfume she only wore on special occasions. Today it had been put on for her first day back at Atkinson’s. ‘I love you, Mother.’ She held back a tear.

  ‘Hey, what’s all this about? I’ll be back later this evening – all is sorted for you. There’s a pie in the pantry for you to put in the oven; you only need to peel the potatoes, and all the cleaning has been done. I bottomed everything last week and Mary, I’m sure, will fit in fine. She’ll look after Georgina and Ben, once he’s back from school.’ Harriet held her daughter tightly. If Isabelle hadn’t been in such a fix, she wouldn’t even be thinking of going back to work at Atkinson’s. But now that the chance had occurred, she had to admit she was looking forward to it. She hadn’t banked on Rosie being this upset; it was Rosie who had acted strangely, from the moment she had agreed to step into Madge’s shoes, albeit just temporarily.

  ‘I know, Mother. I can manage all that. I’ll just miss you.’ Rosie stood back and wiped her tears. ‘You’ve never been away from home before for so long.’

  ‘It’s not forever, my love. And you’ve got Grandfather and your father at home. Just let me help your Aunty Isabelle for a while; she needs her family at the moment, what with your Uncle James having no more sense than that scrubbing brush of yours.’ Harriet looked across at the white sheets in the sink and the red smears that were still on them. ‘Finish doing your washing and then come in and have a cup of tea with me, before Jethro picks me up and Mary shows her face. Just you and me, like we used to be. I used to nurse you for hours in front of the kitchen fire, unable to believe that I’d been given such a beautiful baby girl, after the death of my two sons. I didn’t think I deserved you. You are more precious to me than life itself and, if you don’t want me to go today, then I will tell Jethro to return without me.’ Harriet held Rosie tightly.

  ‘No, Mother, go. I know it will be good for you, and we will all manage.’ Rosie stood back and wiped her eyes. ‘I bet Ben won’t argue with Mary; he wouldn’t dare. And Georgina already loves her – anyone can see that. We will be fine.’

  ‘I know you will, or at least I hope so. I’m finding it hard to leave you all, as it takes lot to entrust my family to another person’s care. Now, let me get that kettle on and let me stir your father. Mary won’t want to see him in his nightshirt, like he sometimes wanders down in. I don’t know who would be more shocked: your father or her!’ Harriet sighed as she left Rosie to her washing. Her little girl was growing up into a fine woman, although she was learning the hard way, as all young women did.

  ‘Back full circle, Mistress Harriet.’ Jethro pulled up the gig just outside the gates of Settle railway station and helped Harriet alight.

  ‘Indeed, Jethro. I didn’t think I’d be doing this ever again. Strange how life works out. I just wish it was in better circumstances and that Madge was still alive to be doing her job, despite the rumours.’ Harriet looked at the man who was part of the backbone of the workings of Windfell and wondered just how much gossip had reached his ears.

  ‘Aye, well, I never listen to gossip – no good ever comes of it. I know that, because there’s been plenty spread over the years about my family.’ Jethro held his horse’s bridle and looked concerned.

  ‘Speaking of family, have you heard anything of your son, Ethan? I still don’t know why he left us. He’d not been reprimanded or done anything wrong, to my knowledge.’ Harriet knew that Jethro must be worried, as indeed she was. After all, Ethan was only a few months older than Rosie, and she would have been worried sick if Rosie had upped and left without a ‘by your leave’.

  ‘No, not heard a thing. He’ll turn up, though; he never could be nailed down, always liked to trail somewhere. Mind you, Mazy is worried. I keep telling her he’ll be back in his own time. I’m just sorry that he’s caused you some worries up at Crummock. He should have been grateful that Master Archie gave him that job in the first place.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Jethro. And keep me informed if Ethan does return home. I must go now. The train’s due, and I can see steam rising down the track.’ Harriet picked up her skirts and her bag and made her way to the platform’s edge to join the other passengers who were awaiting the seven-thirty to Leeds. She looked around her. They were mainly business people, mostly men dressed in their suits, waiting anxiously for the train to draw onto the platform and take them to their positions of importance. Women – especially those of her age and station – were expected to stay at home and take care of their families, leaving the man to be the breadwinner. Harriet felt very self-conscious while she waited her turn to board the train as it pulled into the station.

  Once seated in a carriage with her fellow passengers, she looked out of the window and waited for the stationmaster and porter to clear the platform and blow the whistle. She watched as the steam from the engine blew down next to her window and wisps of white fluff drifted into the early-morning sky. She looked around her. A man in a bowler hat sat across from her, engrossed in his morning’s newspaper, while an older gentleman sat with his briefcase on his knee, guarding it with his life.

  Harriet rearranged her long grey skirt and breathed in deeply. Closing her eyes, she thought back to her home. Hopefully Mary would nearly have finished getting Ben ready for school, and Georgina would be sitting up at the table in her highchair, eating her chopped-up egg with a toasted bread soldier, if she had not thrown it onto the floor by now. It was a game that she liked to play and one that tested her mother’s patience. Harriet knew Rosie would be coping, but she had looked pale this morning; the poor girl was still getting used to her more adult body. Would they all manage without her? What if Georgina took ill? Perhaps she should get off the train and put an end to the stupid idea of helping out at Atkinson’s again.

  It was too late. The whistle blew and the train jolted into action. The wheels turned slowly at first, and then picked up speed as the carriages swayed backwards and forwards over the tracks, chattering as they went over the points. She was on her way to join Isabelle, for her first day back in work for nearly nineteen years. She only hoped she had not lost her touch, and that Isabelle would hold her tongue if she made any mistakes. That day would tell, and she need not return in the morning if things went badly. But most of all Harriet hoped that her children would not miss her too much and that they would be safe until her return.

  ‘Harriet, I’m so glad you didn’t change your mind. I know it must be strange to have to leave your children behind and, honestly, I can’t find the words to say how grateful I am.’ Isabelle rushed over to Harriet’s side as she opened the door and made her way into the cutting and sample room in Atkinson’s. She kissed her lovingly on the cheek and held out her hand for Harriet to join her in a morning coffee before they both started work. ‘Please do sit down, I had Nancy make enough for us both. Have you eaten? I can always order you some breakfast. Cook is already preparing for our luncheon rush in the restaurant. He wouldn’t mind.’ Isabelle smiled as Harriet took off her coat and sat down beside her.

  ‘No, I’m fine, thank you, just a little nervous and worried about leaving my family.’ Harriet fidgeted in her chair as Isabelle poured her a coffee from the silver pot that had just been delivered to her. Strict instructions had been given to all staff to make Harriet feel most welcome.

  ‘They’ll be fine, I’m sure. You made a good choice with Mary, she seemed very sensible and reliable. And of cours
e Rosie is growing up so fast now. I keep forgetting that she’s nearly seventeen. She and Jane are so dissimilar, don’t you think?’ Isabelle sat back and sipped her coffee, watching Harriet worrying.

  ‘Yes, you are quite right. Jane and Rosie have nothing in common, both of them are quite different.’ Harriet looked nervous and suddenly came out with what she was thinking. ‘I don’t know if I should be here. What if somebody takes ill? What if Ben doesn’t return from school?’ She was beginning to fret.

  ‘Look, it’s not like when we were first starting out. We are not under as much pressure as we were the last time you worked here. Atkinson’s has grown beyond all recognition. Plus the transport is better, you’d get home quicker; and Archie will keep an eye on everybody for you. God, I never thought I’d say this, but it’s a good job we have him. He’s a blessing in disguise and he loves his grandchildren – he’ll look after everyone. Now let me show you the workbook. It will take your mind off home and get you into the swing of things. The first fittings are in an hour. Mrs Tattersall is wanting a blouse-coat making in crêpe de Chine. She’s going to watch her son rowing on the river at Cambridge, and someone has told her that is what all the fashionable ladies are wearing over their hobble skirts.’

  Isabelle looked at Harriet. ‘It’s just a simple, long open coat, Harriet. I’ve got a pattern out for you to look at, and the rolls of crêpe de Chine are over there. Try and persuade her to go for a natural colour. She’s a tendency to choose such garish colours, and it doesn’t look good on a woman her age – she should know better.’

  ‘I think I know Mrs Tattersall. Her family farms down near Gisburn, they have horses.’ Harriet looked up from her cup.

  ‘Yes, that’s her. The youngest son won a scholarship to Cambridge, and she’s so proud of him. That’s why we have to make her feel, and look, special. Remember that feeling you used to get, when we knew the women in front of us could not be dressed any finer, not even if they had gone to the finest dress shops in Paris?’ Isabelle smiled at her sister-in-law.

  ‘Yes, I remember. I enjoyed those days, we worked well together.’ Harriet stopped sipping her coffee. ‘I’ve missed them, really.’

  ‘I know, and it was all my fault that you didn’t return after that terrible day. But Atkinson’s was everything to me then, and I didn’t know or realize the deep unconditional love between a mother and her child. I should have listened to you when you said the boys were ill, and sent you back home, regardless of the amount of work we had.’ Isabelle put her arms around her sister-in-law.

  ‘You weren’t to know what was going to happen. Even I didn’t realize they were so ill. Let’s not talk about it again – it’s in the past. Now, show me the pattern books. What colour do you suggest for Mrs Tattersall? She’s got auburn hair. Perhaps a green, quite plain, but well cut, to show her still-decent figure?’ Harriet breathed in; she had to move on, for things had changed. Her mother-in-law was no longer in charge, and she and Isabelle had to bury past differences. Today was a fresh start for both of them.

  18

  Jane sat in her chair, looking out at the rain coming down outside her bedroom window. If the evening had been fine, she would have gone for a short stroll, to get away from the atmosphere that had filled the house since her father’s more-than-public accident. But as it was, she had nowhere to hide from the poisonous talk of her parents. They tried to act as if everything was alright, never exchanging words while she was around them, but she knew differently. Her father was now sleeping in the spare room and her mother was acting strangely, as if nothing was wrong, and yet everything was wrong. Raised voices could frequently be heard, especially after her father had reached for his glass of port of an evening. She longed to yell at them, ‘I’m no longer a child’, but daren’t. To make matters worse, the staff at Atkinson’s tittered and laughed behind her back and she’d come close to losing her temper, when overhearing their comments on several occasions.

  And the staff at Windfell didn’t seem to be as jovial as usual and hardly bothered with her. They didn’t know exactly what to say to her. It was if she had no feelings, and nobody cared. She couldn’t even discuss it with Luke, as now that the new term had started he was back boarding at Giggleswick School, conveniently out of the way, but looked after while her mother and father went about their business. The only refuge was her room, and there Jane lost herself in a good book or reading the latest suffragette news in her Votes for Women, which was delivered weekly to Windfell. Her mother abhorred her reading it, and hated even more the friendships that she had built through it, especially with the bobbin girls at Dewhurst’s. Isabelle especially abhorred Nellie Taylor, whom she thought to be common and mouthy, and she often reprimanded Jane for becoming friends with a mill girl. But Nellie was different: she stood up for women’s rights, often talking about demanding equal pay with the menfolk at the mills, and the need for women to have a vote and a say on how the country was run. And even Jane realized that women were not equal with men, and was not happy to accept her lot in life. After all, she was Charlotte Atkinson’s granddaughter, and her grandmother had always striven to be as good as – or even better than – any businessman in the area. She always had to work that little bit harder than most men, but was unable to have a say in the local elections. Surely that wasn’t right; everyone should be equal, regardless of their gender.

  Jane picked up her latest edition of Votes for Women and read the dedication, to remind herself of the cause she believed in:

  To the brave women who today are fighting for freedom: to the noble women who all down the ages kept the flag flying and looked forward to this day without seeing it: to all women all over the world of whatever race or creed or calling, whether they be with us or against us in this fight, we dedicate this paper.

  She put the paper to one side. It wasn’t just her mother and father falling out that she felt upset about. It was the fact that her mother had put her Aunt Harriet in Madge’s place. Why hadn’t she asked Jane herself to come and learn alongside her? She knew how to sew and could follow a pattern. Instead, she was treating Harriet as if she was someone special. To make matters worse, the whole of Atkinson’s was singing Harriet’s praises, saying how nice it was to see the pair working back together. If Bert Bannister had said it once to Jane, he’d said it a hundred times, and she was a little tired of hearing about the glorious Harriet and her skills. Bloody Harriet! All Jane needed now was for the simple Rosie to follow her mother into work at Atkinson’s, and that would never do. Rosie didn’t even dress well.

  Jane looked at herself in her bedroom mirror. Her long auburn hair and pale skin made her stand out from the crowd, but how she hated her hair colour; she had always been teased as a child for the redness of it. Even now, even though people commented on her good looks, she still hated it. Everything was wrong in her life, and nobody cared.

  ‘Jane, Harriet has run out of this red-coloured Sylko. Can you go down to Dewhurst’s and pick up six reels, please?’ Isabelle entered the warehouse at Atkinson’s and gave Jane her latest instructions, showing her a near-empty bobbin reel with a hint of the colour she needed.

  ‘Why me, Mother? Can’t one of the warehouse lads go for you? It isn’t really my job, fetching and carrying.’ Jane looked at her mother and pulled a sulky face. She wasn’t a gofer – she would be the heiress one day of Atkinson’s.

  ‘You are to go because you were the first one I set eyes on who was doing nothing. Besides, I thought you’d appreciate the walk. But don’t think I’ll not be timing you. There will be no dilly-dallying with those mill girls, especially that Nellie Taylor. She’s nothing but trouble. Now get gone. Tell them to put it on my account – and look lively, as Harriet is waiting for it.’ Isabelle looked at her surly daughter. She knew Jane wasn’t happy and realized that things were not that pleasant at home for her, but ‘there were worse things happening at sea’, as her mother used to say to her, when she thought she was having a bad time. She watched as Jane grabbed
her shawl and made her way out of the warehouse doors.

  ‘I don’t know, Bert, she’s nothing but a worry at the moment. I can’t do right for doing wrong. What with her and her father, no wonder I’m showing signs of ageing.’ Isabelle sighed and looked at the old man across the warehouse table.

  ‘Tha’s nobbut a spring chicken yet, ma’am. Wait until you get to my age. It’ll not be long before I’m pushing up the daisies. Or so it would be, if I didn’t have this place to keep me going. Isn’t it grand having Miss Harriet back with us? It’s just like old times. How are you both getting on?’ Bert leaned on the table and looked across at Isabelle. His body ached, but he wasn’t going to let her know of his pain.

  ‘It’s lovely, Bert. I don’t have to explain anything to Harriet, as she knows exactly what to do, and the customers love her. She’s no problem. It’s Miss Clever-clogs I’m worried about; she seems so angry about everything. What with her and her father, I’m beside myself.’ Isabelle pushed a loose strand of her greying hair behind her ear.

  ‘It’ll settle down in a bit. Give it time, and folk will find something else to talk about other than your husband. As for Miss Jane, well, she hears and sees everything down here. Perhaps you could find her a job on the shop floor, or upstairs with you. I think she’s feeling a bit lost and neglected.’ Bert had watched the young lass becoming more and more discontented over the weeks, and knew Jane was eager to learn elsewhere in the shop.

  ‘I’ll see, Bert, but she should have the patience to learn from the bottom up. Perhaps in another week or two, once her father is back, she could help him, because he will need some assistance for a while.’ Isabelle turned to go.