‘It’s so bizarre,’ said Patty. ‘We don’t often see Kingtown in the newspapers. My pa pointed it out to me. He reads the newspaper from cover to cover. This column here is all about someone called Plumstead. Now there’s a familiar name!’
‘Our Opal Plumbrain?’ said Nora. ‘Tell, Patty!’ She laughed, thinking Patty was about to invent some outlandish story.
‘Stop your nonsense now, Pattacake,’ said Geoff.
‘It’s not nonsense, Geoff. It’s all here in black and white – see: page seven, column three. All about this Ernest Plumstead chap. Oh, what a bad boy he’s been. Cooking the books at his office for years, but now he’s been nicked. He was up for trial yesterday and he’s got his come-uppance. A year’s hard labour!’
‘Stop it,’ I said. My throat was so dry my voice cracked.
‘Who is this Ernest Plumbrain? He has to be some swanky relation of yours. A cousin? Maybe an uncle?’
‘He’s my father,’ I said hoarsely.
‘Your father?’ For a moment Patty looked surprised, and then she burst out laughing.
It was enough. I ran across the room, snatched the newspaper and pushed her violently in the chest. She gasped and then slapped me. I sprang at her and we both fell to the floor, screaming and punching and kicking, knocking over a whole pile of starch boxes.
All the girls yelled, and Geoff and George shouted and tried to drag us apart, but nothing could stop me now. Patty was bigger and stronger than me, but I was filled with such fury that I couldn’t stop hitting her, even when she took hold of my head and banged it on the floorboards. I scratched her face and pulled her hair free of her cap and tugged it as hard as I could. I was suddenly aware that the yelling all around us had stopped. There was an ominous silence in the room.
Patty suddenly gasped and let me go. She scrambled to her feet. ‘Sorry, missus,’ she mumbled, tucking her hair back under her cap.
I leaned up on one elbow and peered blearily through the clouds of starch. A woman was standing in the doorway. She was tall and dignified, wearing her white overall with an air of authority. She was the beautifully spoken woman I’d once met in the ladies’ room.
‘What on earth is going on here?’ she said.
‘Beg pardon, Mrs Roberts,’ said George. ‘Just a bit of a scrap between the girls.’
Mrs Roberts? Oh my Lord, the Mrs Roberts who owned Fairy Glen?
‘I can’t have this sort of behaviour in my factory,’ she said. She looked at Patty. ‘How dare you attack a little girl half your size?’
‘I didn’t, missus,’ said Patty.
‘I saw you with my own eyes beating her head on the floor.’
‘Yes, but Opal hit her first!’ said Nora – and half the other girls echoed her.
Mrs Roberts shook her head.
‘I reckon it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. Young Opal might have started the rough play, but she was severely provoked,’ said Geoff.
‘Did you start the fight, Opal?’ asked Mrs Roberts.
‘Yes I did!’ I stood up, rubbing my eyes. My hair had tumbled down, my overall was torn, and my nose was bleeding. ‘I hit her and I’m not one bit ashamed of it. I’d like to hit her again and again and again.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘You two girls, tidy yourselves. I’ll see you in my office in five minutes.’ She turned and walked off, briskly brushing starch from her overall.
‘Well, you’ve really been and gone and done it now, young Opal,’ said Geoff. ‘Whatever’s got into you?’
‘Why did you have to goad her, Patty?’ said George. He picked up the pieces of the tattered newspaper and tore them to shreds with his big hands.
‘I didn’t twig it was her father,’ said Patty. She was gingerly feeling her face. ‘I didn’t think she’d go for me like a wildcat.’
‘You’ve got a scratch this long, Pats! She wants locking up, that one,’ said Nora.
‘Poor Patty,’ said Edith, offering her own rather grubby handkerchief.
Beeston came rushing in, his hat at a slant, out of breath from flying up the stairs. ‘What’s happened? I’ve just seen Mrs Roberts. Who was fighting?’ He looked around. It was easy to see it was Patty and me.
‘I can’t believe it. You two of all people! You’re my senior girl, Patty Meacham, with all the privileges – and you’re supposed to be the bright quick learner, Opal Plumstead. I had high expectations of both of you. How dare you let me down like this! And to have the stupidity to pick a day when Mrs Roberts is doing an inspection. I’ll never live it down. Well, don’t just stand there gawping at me, you pair of ninnies. Get yourselves to her office, pronto.’ He shook his head so hard he nearly dislodged his hat.
I didn’t know where Mrs Roberts’ office was. I had to follow Patty down the stairs and across the factory floor. The men and women downstairs stared at us. They’d obviously heard all the shouting and thumping. Freddy was white-faced and stricken.
‘Oh, Opal, you’re not going to get the sack, are you?’ he wailed.
I shrugged at him, trying not to cry. It was all very well feeling triumphant that I’d held my own against hateful Patty. What if I did lose my job? I couldn’t stand it at Fairy Glen, but I knew enough to realize that it was the biggest and best factory for miles, with the fairest conditions and the highest rates of pay. If I got dismissed without a reference, I’d be totally stuck. We needed my wages to survive.
I followed Patty off the main factory floor, along the corridor, then down to a door at the end. She turned to face me. She was biting her lips, her eyes desperate. Perhaps she was terrified of losing her job too. She was very white, so the scratch on her face stood out lividly. I wiped my nose, which was still bleeding. Look at the pair of us! How could she not dismiss us?
Patty took a deep breath and then knocked on the door.
‘Come in,’ Mrs Roberts called. Her voice was severe. This was far worse than being sent in disgrace to the headmistress.
Patty opened the door. I started to follow, but Mrs Roberts stopped me.
‘One at a time,’ she said. ‘You wait outside.’
I had to stand by myself in the corridor, waiting. I leaned against the wall, my head throbbing, my whole body sore and hurting. I had to keep sniffing fiercely to stop my nose dribbling. Eventually I used my overall cuff, and it came away smeared with blood.
I couldn’t believe how my whole life had changed in just a few short months. I hadn’t realized how happy I’d been back at school with Olivia. I had often wasted time feeling miserable or restless when I actually had everything: my scholarship, my dear best friend, my own family of four. Oh, Father, I thought wretchedly. I couldn’t bear it that he was in the national newspapers. The Daily News was ripped to shreds now, but perhaps I ought to buy another, just to see how his case was reported. Then I would tear that up too. I’d buy all the newspapers in the shop and destroy them. I had a sudden mad vision of rushing from shop to shop all over the country, tearing up newspapers until my hands bled.
Patty was in with Mrs Roberts a long, long time. I tried creeping right up to the door and putting my ear against it, but I couldn’t hear properly. There was just a low murmur and then a sound of sobbing. Patty sobbing? Then Mrs Roberts must have dismissed her!
I loathed Patty. But even so my stomach lurched. Patty was hateful to me, but she was tolerably good at her job. She took care to come in late as a matter of pride, but she could mould faster and more neatly than most, and she kept her eye on the other girls and made sure their work was up to scratch. She was a spiteful bully and yet they all looked up to her. I’d heard them talking about her family. She was the eldest of eight and had an invalid father, so her wages were vital. How would they manage now that Patty had lost her job?
She came out at last, her face blotchy, her eyes red. She didn’t even glance at me. She ran down the corridor towards the ladies’ room.
‘Patty?’ I called, but she ignored me.
I knocked on
Mrs Roberts’ door.
‘Come in.’
I walked in – and was utterly taken aback. I’d expected an office like Mr Beeston’s – brown paint, lino, practical desk, files and books on a shelf, work rotas pinned on the wall. Mrs Roberts’ room was like a lady’s drawing room. It was wallpapered in an intricate leaf and flower design in subtle creams and greens. A Persian rug lay on the floor. Her desk was small and stylish, with carved handles, and a brass lion paperweight crouched on top of a neat pile of letters. She had a proper bookshelf with various manuals on sweet making, and blue-and-white-patterned vases artistically arranged here and there on the shelving.
Mrs Roberts herself sat in an easy chair, though her back was straight and her head erect. She had taken off her cap and overall. She was wearing a crisp white blouse with a cameo at the throat, and a beautifully cut deep purple skirt with a green belt around her narrow waist. I felt smaller and scruffier than ever as I crept towards her.
‘Sit down, Opal,’ she said, indicating the wooden chair in front of her.
I sat, and couldn’t contain myself any longer.
‘Please, Mrs Roberts, don’t dismiss Patty,’ I blurted. ‘It wasn’t really all her fault. I did push her first. And I hit her and hit her.’
‘I dare say you did. You both behaved disgracefully. I won’t have my girls brawling like hooligans.’
‘I know. But you don’t understand,’ I said wretchedly.
‘I understand that you’ve been very unhappy here at Fairy Glen,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘I remember our conversation in the ladies’ room on your very first day here.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were then.’
‘Obviously. I hoped that after a few days you’d get used to things and settle in, but it’s clear that hasn’t happened.’
‘So are you going to dismiss me too?’
Mrs Roberts sighed heavily. ‘Not necessarily. I’m not that sort of employer. I want you to work hard and be happy here, though that doesn’t seem possible in your case, Opal Plumstead.’
‘I will be even more unhappy if you dismiss Patty and not me, because all the girls will detest me. And I will detest myself because I think Patty is the chief breadwinner in her family – without her wages they may very well end up in the workhouse, living on bread and gruel, even the little ones,’ I said, trying to make it sound as graphic as possible to arouse Mrs Roberts’ sympathy.
She raised one eyebrow. ‘I’m impressed by your concern, seeing as you seemed intent on beating the living daylights out of Patty half an hour ago. You need not be fearful on her behalf. Patty will always have employment at Fairy Glen. Her father used to work here – when the employees’ safety and employment weren’t necessarily the concern of the owner. There was an accident with a vat of boiling sugar and Mr Meacham’s hands were badly burned. He cannot work now, but members of his family will always be given a good position here at Fairy Glen – as long as they don’t abuse it. I’ve had a few words with Patty. I think she’s rather taken advantage of the situation and has not always been kind to her fellow workers.’
‘Meaning me?’ I said.
‘Yes, I do mean you. You’re very direct, Opal. It’s a little disconcerting.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be. The words seem to come out of my mouth before I can stop them, and then I upset people. I do it at home and I used to do it at school too. I know it irritated the teachers.’
‘So you disliked school too?’
‘On the contrary, I positively adored St Margaret’s. I had a scholarship,’ I said, unable to resist boasting.
‘So why did you decide to come to Fairy Glen?’
‘I didn’t have any choice,’ I said.
Mrs Roberts leaned forward enquiringly.
‘I – I don’t really want to talk about it,’ I said.
‘I can see that it’s difficult, but if I’m to understand you properly, Opal, I think I need to know,’ said Mrs Roberts.
I wanted to retort that it was none of her business, but I pressed my lips together, knowing that this would be going too far. I waited. Mrs Roberts waited too. At last I managed to say, ‘My father is . . . away. We are in straitened circumstances. It wasn’t possible for me to stay on at school. I have to earn money now.’
‘Do you know when your father will be coming back?’ Mrs Roberts asked gently. ‘There’s no question of your going back to school?’
‘No chance at all. My father will be away for a year. I wouldn’t be able to catch up on my schooling. I’ve tried to read my textbooks in the evenings but I’m too tired to concentrate.’
‘Because I work you too hard here?’ said Mrs Roberts, looking concerned.
‘No, because the work is so tedious. You would surely hate to mould for ten hours a day, wouldn’t you, Mrs Roberts?’ I put my hand over my mouth. ‘I’m being too direct again, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, you are. I don’t know what to do with you, Opal. My girls generally enjoy their time in the fondant room where they can chatter together.’
‘Couldn’t I be put to sugar rolling, or twisting or stirring? That would be so much more interesting,’ I said.
‘Those are all skilled jobs. You might think yourself equal to anything, Opal, but you are sadly mistaken. I don’t want any more accidents on my factory floor. But I can see that moulding isn’t necessarily a fulfilling occupation for you. Perhaps I would find it tedious too, as you suggest. Let me think a little . . .’ Mrs Roberts sat very still, her blue eyes gazing into the distance. She was perhaps as old as Mother, maybe even older, but she still looked extremely beautiful.
‘You were a scholarship girl. Were you good at all subjects?’
‘I came top of everything,’ I said eagerly. ‘Well, except art.’
‘Oh dear – I take it you’re not good at art?’ She looked disappointed.
‘My art teacher didn’t care for the way I work. But I am passionate about art. I love to paint,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to boast, but other people seem impressed by my artwork, though they think I have unusual ideas.’
‘Yes, you are a very unusual girl, Opal Plumstead. You’re also a very bad girl to start a fight in my factory. I want you to return to the fondant room, make your peace with Patty, and work quietly and diligently without further outburst. I won’t dismiss you – I won’t even dock your wages, because that will make your family suffer. I’ll expect you to work particularly hard for the next few days to make up for the spilled moulding boxes. I shall ask George to keep an eye on you. But if you show willing, I might find another outlet for you – one that may prove more congenial.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Roberts,’ I said. I seemed to be dismissed, so I stood up.
‘Opal . . . I can see you’re having a very hard time, dear. But take heart. A year seems a lifetime now, but it will pass eventually.’
‘You don’t understand,’ I said, my face crumpling.
‘Oh, I think I do. I have been in prison myself.’
I stared at her, dumbfounded. ‘That can’t be true!’
‘Oh, indeed it is. I have been in prison three times for my political beliefs. I am an ardent supporter of the suffrage movement. I’ve taken part in many demonstrations and am proud to say I have been imprisoned as a consequence.’
‘Is it very hard in prison?’
‘Yes, it is. I won’t pretend otherwise. But it’s bearable.’
‘You had your political beliefs to sustain you. My poor father is there because he made one wretched mistake, and now they insist he’s committed long-term embezzlement, when he hasn’t, he absolutely hasn’t,’ I said, starting to cry. ‘And I am so worried that he will lose the will to live now.’
‘How could he possibly do that when he has his family to think of – especially such a fine, spirited daughter,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘Now dry your eyes and hold your head up high. He is still your father, in or out of prison.’
‘How did you know about Father?’
‘Let�
�s just say it was a shrewd guess.’
‘You’re very clever, Mrs Roberts.’
‘Well, I was once a scholarship girl myself,’ she said.
I THOUGHT PATTY would hate me even more. We worked in silence at opposite ends of the fondant room. Geoff and George and Nora and all the other girls watched us warily, but we didn’t even look at each other. I ate my bun and drank my tea with Maggie and Jess at lunch time. They were astonished by my battle. The whole factory knew of the fight in the fondant room.
‘You really took on Patty Meacham, a little scrap like you!’ said Maggie.
‘I’ve seen the scratch all down her face. You must have fought like a little wildcat,’ said Jess.
‘What on earth did she say to you to get you going like that?’ Maggie asked.
Mrs Roberts had told me to hold my head up high and be proud, but I still didn’t want to talk about it to Maggie and Jess. If they hadn’t read the Daily News, then I didn’t want to enlighten them.
‘I’m sure you know what she’s like. She is very provoking,’ I said.
‘Well, I’ll take care not to provoke you myself, little Plum!’ said Maggie.
‘Though don’t fly off the handle like that again, dear,’ said Jess. ‘Mrs Roberts might have let you off once, but she’s firm as well as fair. She won’t take any further nonsense from either of you.’
After lunch I had to go back to the ladies’ room to bathe my sore nose as it was still bleeding intermittently. I was splashing cold water on it when the door opened and Patty came in. The two other girls at the looking glass gave a gasp and rushed out, clearly scared they would be caught up in another fight. I was anxious about this too. I carried on attending to my nose, but I was starting to tremble.
Patty came right up to me. She peered in the looking glass too. She winced when she saw her scratches.
‘Look what you’ve done to me!’ she said.
‘Look what you’ve done to me!’ I retaliated, cupping my poor swollen nose in my hand.
Opal Plumstead Page 19