The Girl from the Mill

by Chrissie Walsh

  ‘What wa’, you know, like?’ mouthed Lacey, a roguish glint in her eye. Her cheeky enquiry regarding Joan and Stanley’s nuptials went unanswered, the tackler fixing a card to an upright strut on her loom and pronouncing it ready for action. As she read the instructions for how to weave the new piece, Sydney Sugden leaned over her shoulder. ‘Don’t take all day about it,’ he snarled, ‘you’ve wasted enough time already.’ He stomped off.

  Suddenly, it occurred to Lacey that Slimy Syd hadn’t pestered her for some time now. She’d been so wrapped up in her doubts about Nathan she hadn’t given Syd a thought. At breakfast time she voiced this to her colleagues.

  ‘What’s wi’ Slimy Syd these days? He wouldn’t leave me alone a short while back, now he hardly looks at me.’

  ‘He’s onto somebody else,’ Maggie Clegg said.

  ‘Aye, that new woman what he put on t’new looms. Her wi’ red hair,’ volunteered May Skinner. ‘It’s not right she should have got ‘em. You can weave twice as fast on them as you can on them old rattletraps I’m stuck with.’

  Flo Backhouse joined in. ‘The rotten bugger said he’d let me have ‘em but he gave ‘em to her. An’ to think I let him have his way wi’ me on t’chance I’d earn a few extra bob each week. I’ll bloody swing for him one day, an’ that red headed tart.’

  ‘As long as she keeps him off my back she can have all the new looms she likes,’ Lacey said, ‘although it’s not right that we have to go along wi’ Syd’s mucky tricks so’s we can earn us wages. Trouble is, the bosses treat us like chattels an’ we’ve only ourselves to blame. As long as we let ’em walk all over us we’ll never amount to anything. What we should do is join t’Union. Fight for us rights.’

  Lizzie Isherwood scowled. ‘Men don’t want women in t’Union. The buggers don’t think we have any rights.’

  ‘If enough of us joined we’d make us selves heard,’ Lacey insisted. ‘We’ve as much rights as any man in this shed, but we don’t do nowt about it.’

  ‘I couldn’t afford t’subscription even if I wanted to join,’ Maggie grumbled.

  ‘Aye, an’ you never will as long as we let ‘em pay us less money for doing t’same job as a man,’ Lacey pointed out. ‘I think it’s about time I gave a bit more thought to t’Unions. They can’t keep us down forever.’

  Mary Collier gave Lacey a sour look. ‘Why would you join t’Union? You’ll not be workin’ in t’weavin’ shed much longer. Everybody knows you’re walkin’ out wi’ t’boss’s son. Afore long he’ll move you into t’office to make you more respectable – that’s if you open your legs wide enough.’ Some of the women cackled at this remark.

  Lacey flew at her, catching her by the shoulders. ‘You filthy minded bitch; it’s not like that. I’ll have you know…’ Mary retaliated by spitting in Lacey’s face. Realising a full blown fight was developing, Lizzie Isherwood waded in and broke it up. The hooter blew and the women went back to their looms, Lacey wiping her face and seething with indignation.

  *

  ‘I’m beginning to think you were right after all when you said we should keep things under wraps,’ Lacey told Nathan as they walked along Towngate after work.

  ‘What changed your mind?’

  Lacey scowled. ‘Bitter minded folks an’ their nasty tongues.’

  Nathan looked concerned. ‘I thought we weren’t going to allow ourselves to be intimidated by other people’s opinions. That we should let them get used to seeing us together.’

  Lacey’s temper flared. ‘It’s all right for you. They don’t dare blacken your character, but they have me marked for a whore.’ Tears sprang to her eyes.

  Nathan squeezed her hand. ‘That’s downright wickedness,’ he cried, ‘yet I understand the logic of it.’ His expression changed from angry to remorseful. ‘For centuries it’s been common practice for bosses in the mills to abuse women workers.’

  Lacey nodded miserably. ‘Aye, I suppose it’s only natural they think you’re just using me.’

  ‘I’d never do that, Lacey. Believe me, I’ve every intention of making things right. Father appears to be warming to our friendship already. He knows I meet you after work each day and on Sundays. As yet he’s voiced no objections.’

  ‘No, he won’t, because he thinks I’m just a passing fancy, an’ once you’ve had your way with me often enough you’ll drop me an’ move on to somebody more respectable.’

  Nathan looked thoughtful. ‘I’m not sure about that; I think he quite admires you in his own way.’ He groaned comically. ‘It’s Mother who’s the bugbear, but Fliss’s working on her. She asks after you whenever we’re together in Ma’s company and I always answer favourably.’ He managed a grim laugh. ‘Just be patient. It won’t be long now before she discovers for herself what a splendid creature you really are.’

  *

  However, patience was not one of Lacey’s virtues, and whilst she waited, irritably, for the opportunity to show Constance Brearley what ‘a splendid creature’ she truly was, she found herself beset by problems of a completely different nature.

  Although Jimmy swore he no longer hung around with Arty Bincliffe, Lacey suspected this wasn’t entirely true. Of late, he had adopted a surly, devious manner. No longer the open faced, friendly lad who had a smile for everyone, he came and went at all hours, reluctant to say where and with whom he had been.

  ‘He’s a right temperamental teenager is our Jimmy. I never had that trouble wi’ you an’ our Matt,’ Edith complained. She said this in Jimmy’s hearing one night as he prepared to dash off without his dinner, having refused to give a reason why.

  ‘That’s ‘cos our Matt never wa’ a teenager. He were born an old man,’ quipped Jimmy. ‘That’s why he’s me Dad’s favourite.’ He slammed out of the house.

  Lacey debated whether to have a word with Matt about her suspicions but reasoned Edith might be right. Perhaps Jimmy was finding the transition from boyhood to manhood hard to handle.

  After all, she had no proof Jimmy was involved in any wrongdoing. She’d not seen him with Arty since the day she warned Arty off, and whenever their paths crossed Arty grinned and winked lasciviously, giving no indication that he had outwitted her but rather that he still fancied her.

  Her other problems, however, were of a more personal nature. Every day she ran the gamut of foul jibes and filthy innuendo delivered by a few of her workmates. ‘Take no notice of ‘em,’ Joan advised, ‘they’re only jealous. But it was easier said than done.

  Lacey fleetingly considered pretending Nathan was no longer interested in her: thus proving them right. But cowardice didn’t come naturally. It went against everything she believed in: equality, fairness and honesty. Whilst the taunts hurt, they didn’t annoy Lacey as much as Syd’s renewed attentions and the spiteful tricks he played whenever she spurned him.

  For the second time in a week, Lacey arrived at work to find one of her looms waiting for the tackler to fix the warp. ‘What’s going on?’ she cried, throwing up her hands in consternation. ‘How am I to make a decent wage if me looms aren’t ready?’

  ‘Syd’s doing it on purpose,’ said Joan, her plump face pink with irritation, for weavers were paid by the piece; idle looms meant loss of earnings. ‘He’ll not rest until he’s had you.’

  Lacey marched down ‘weavers alley’ in search of Syd, recalling the vengeful tricks he had employed in the past few months: no Christmas bonus, shuttles filled with shoddy yarn, and unnecessarily long waits for a tuner to adjust faults on her looms. She saw him hovering over one of the training looms, his grubby, wandering hands finding any excuse to grope the young girl learning the trade.

  ‘Mr Sugden, why is my loom not warped?’

  Syd ignored Lacey’s cry. It wasn’t until she was standing next to him that he bothered to give her his attention. He gave a mock sigh. ‘Eeh, Lacey luv, you look fair pothered. What’s wrong.’ His leering eyes came to rest on her heaving bosom.

  ‘You know what,’ Lacey snapped, ‘and I’m not standin�
�� for it.’ Too late she regretted her choice of words.

  ‘You could try lying down,’ he said smirking at his own wit. ‘You know what I want, Lacey. I’ve told you often enough. As long as you make me wait for it, I’ll make you wait twice as long.’

  Lacey contemplated confiding in Nathan but then dismissed the idea. If word got out that she was receiving special privileges, her workmates hackles would be raised even further. Besides, making him aware of Slimy Syd’s obscene behaviour towards her might cause him to doubt her innocence.

  If he truly loved her, he couldn’t possibly think her so low, but that was another problem: was he just stringing her along? Whilst he swore his love for her at every meeting, there had been no further mention of him taking her to formally meet his parents.

  *

  On a bright Saturday afternoon in May, Lacey was shopping in Towngate when she came face to face with Jonas Brearley and Felicity. Prepared to bid them no more than good day, Lacey was surprised when Felicity brought Jonas to a sudden halt and greeted her enthusiastically. ‘Hello, Lacey; isn’t it a glorious afternoon, and might I say how much I admire your dress.’

  Lacey blushed. The navy and white cotton dress she was wearing was one of her latest creations. ‘Thank you,’ she replied, ‘I made it meself. I do a lot of sewing for meself and me cousin, Joan Micklethwaite.’

  Felicity looked thoughtful; she recognised the name. ‘Is that the girl who was recently married in the Methodist Church. The one wearing a blue crepe suit?’

  ‘Yes, that’s her.’

  ‘And did you make that delightful outfit as well?’ Felicity turned to address Jonas. ‘I’m sure you didn’t know you had someone so talented in your employ, Papa.’

  ‘I know she has a ready tongue on her,’ Jonas said, indicating they should move on. Felicity delayed him.

  ‘Would you consider making me something, Lacey? I’ll be awfully pleased if you say yes.’

  ‘I’d be delighted. Buy some material and I’ll make it up for you.’

  ‘No sooner said than done,’ Felicity chirped, ‘I’ll be in touch. It was lovely to see you, Lacey.’ She threaded her arm through Jonas’s and led him away.

  Lacey almost danced down the street.

  *

  ‘I’m to take you back for tea next Sunday,’ Nathan told her as they climbed Cuckoo Hill. ‘Mother has at last realised I’ve no intention of giving you up.’

  Somewhat taken aback by such short notice, Lacey was both thrilled and apprehensive. As they sauntered over the moor she was so distracted by thoughts of how she should acquit herself, she paid little heed to Nathan.

  ‘You haven’t heard a word I was saying,’ he accused.

  Lacey giggled. ‘I was practicing my lines for when I meet your mother.’

  Nathan groaned.

  They found a cosy hollow sheltered by a rocky outcrop and cushioned with heather. At first they sat, Nathan’s kisses soft on Lacey’s lips. Passion flaring she found herself on her back, Nathan pressed against her. She felt his manhood rise and although her body said yes, her mind said no. She pushed him away and sat up, patting her hair to hide her desire.

  Nathan rolled onto his back, staring up into the cloudless sky. ‘Oh, Lacey, how much longer do I have to wait?’

  ‘The answer to that is in your hands, Nathan.’ Lacey spoke softly but firmly. She ached for him, yet she would not give in. ‘If I let you have me now, an’ believe me I’m tempted, I’ll be the whore the Mill lasses already think I am. And I wouldn’t want to face your mother knowing what we’d done here today.’

  Nathan groaned again. ‘I’m sorry, Lacey. You’re right, as always.’ He slumped forward, his arms wrapped around his bent knees, and in an attempt to quell his lustful hunger he turned his thoughts to dull matters. ‘Father’s seriously concerned about the slump in trade. We can’t compete with foreign competition. He’s thinking of putting the workers on short time.’

  Having watched Nathan struggle to gain composure, Lacey understood the sudden change of topic was his way of cooling the situation. Suddenly she wanted to laugh out loud. What a fine pair we are, she thought, suppressing her laughter. One minute we’re about to make passionate love and the next we’re discussing Mill business.

  Instead of voicing her thoughts, she echoed Nathan’s words. ‘Short time; isn’t the Mill making a profit? We’ve plenty of work on.’

  Nathan gazed at her, longing still burning in his eyes. Lacey’s heart skipped a beat and the same warm feeling that had flooded her loins a short while ago surged through them again.

  Nathan struggled to answer her question and Lacey forced herself to pay attention.

  ‘Too many of our machines are out of date; we need more automatic looms and trouble in Europe is disrupting our trade networks.’

  ‘Aye, I’ve read about that trouble in the Balkans, but surely with the price of raw wool staying steady for the last two years, your father must have made enough profit to buy new looms,’ Lacey said.

  Nathan was impressed. He hadn’t reckoned on such an informed response. ‘Yes, the Balkans and Russia are definitely stirring things up, and we are considering purchasing new machines, but for now things are looking pretty bleak for Brearley’s.’

  ‘They’ll be a lot bleaker for them on short time than they will for your family,’ Lacey said stoutly, ardour fading as they exchanged opinions on the issue. On this miserable note they left the sanctuary of their trysting place and walked back across the moor.

  ‘Don’t mention any of this over tea,’ Nathan advised, ‘Mother doesn’t like what she calls Mill talk.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Lacey promised, ‘although I can’t say I’m not saddened to think I’ll be earning less money if things don’t improve.’

  ‘You won’t have to worry about money once we’re married. I’ll take care of you. In the meantime, concentrate on making a good impression with Mother.’

  Lacey bristled. ‘I’ll not be a kept woman, Nathan; I thought I’d already made that clear. I have every intention of making my own way in the world – I might even impress your mother.’

  Nathan rolled his eyes. ‘I’m sure you will, Lacey.’

  *

  Yet again, Lacey dressed with care to visit Fenay Hall. This time she chose a cream linen dress, its dropped waistline and broad, flat pleats enhancing her slender hips. It wasn’t new but Lacey thought its rather demure style fitted the occasion. She completed the outfit with a straw boater and cotton gloves.

  ‘He’s here again,’ Edith hissed, as Lacey went to answer Nathan’s knock. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘You look positively ravishing,’ Nathan declared, when she opened the door. He’d called at Lacey’s home three times during the past months, Joshua, Edith and Matt giving him a cautious welcome. They liked Nathan but they still doubted the veracity of his friendship with Lacey and didn’t want to see her hurt. Joshua and Matt, in from the fields for a cup of tea, exchanged quizzical glances, Joshua puckering his lips and Matt narrowing his eyes.

  ‘How do, lad?’ Joshua said by way of welcome as Lacey ushered Nathan inside. Matt just nodded his head.

  ‘Good afternoon, gentlemen; and you too, Mrs Barraclough, I hope you’re finding this fine weather to your liking.’

  ‘Aye,’ replied Joshua, ‘I just hope it holds until we get last o’ t’shearin’ done.’

  Edith fluttered between the sink and the stove, filling the kettle and rattling teacups. ‘Will you take a cup of tea, Nathan?’ She sounded almost breathless with anticipation.

  ‘Mam, there’s no need to fuss,’ said Lacey.

  Edith looked offended until Nathan, charming her with a smile said, ‘Thank you, but no; we’re having tea at Fenay Hall. I’m taking Lacey to meet my parents.’

  Edith already knew this, and had objected strongly. Now, with Nathan standing there before her, she appeared to be absolutely delighted. ‘How nice. How kind of you. Well, off you go and have a good time.’

&nb
sp; Suppressing a groan of irritation, Lacey took Nathan by the arm and they made their farewells. Out in the yard, Lacey laughed out loud. ‘Never mind ‘em,’ she said, ‘they’ll get used to you eventually.’

  Lacey climbed into Nathan’s newest purchase, an Austin A7. It being her first car ride she would have liked to sit upright and admire the view for the entire journey, but when the little car chugged into Towngate she slid down in her seat, her head ducked. It wouldn’t do to be seen by any of her workmates; come Monday morning, they’d mock her for ‘showing off’ and she had no desire to provoke them. During the drive, Lacey and Nathan had barely exchanged two words, Lacey feeling awkwardly conspicuous and Nathan staring stonily straight ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

  The afternoon was unusually warm even for July, and Lacey prayed she wouldn’t perspire too much and make her dress limp. The nearer they got to Fenay Hall, the more apprehensive she felt. When Nathan brought the car to a halt, although Lacey had been here once before and admired its grandeur, the mansion now loomed ominously in front of her. Don’t say too much, don’t say the wrong thing and don’t be intimidated, she silently admonished herself as they walked across the gravel sweep.

  In the hallway, Lacey straightened her hat and flicked the pleats of her dress. ‘You look beautiful,’ Nathan said, squeezing her hand encouragingly. When the butler turned his back on them to open the drawing room door, Nathan gave Lacey a swift kiss before whispering, ‘Let battle commence.’

  Constance and Felicity were seated on a couch and Jonas in a chair by the hearth. Nathan led Lacey forward, a brave smile on his face. ‘I know you’ve already met but allow me to present Miss Lacey Barraclough of Netherfold Farm.’ Lacey blushed at this grandiose introduction.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Brearley.’ Lacey proffered her hand. Constance responded, her fingers unwilling.

  ‘Hello, Lacey,’ Felicity chirped, a warm smile on her face. ‘So glad you could come.’ At Felicity’s welcome, the tension stiffening Lacey’s body eased. She adjusted her posture. Pushing back her shoulders and standing tall and straight, she assembled every whit of her naturally feisty spirit; today no-one would make her feel less than equal, try as they may.