by Jenny Holmes
Luckily, Lily’s young neighbour was used to Jennie’s sly digs and she took no notice. She mentioned instead that there was a rumour going around that Mr Calvert himself was due to drop by later that afternoon.
On her way back from the flipping machine, Jennie overheard the remark. ‘Let’s hope he’s not coming in to lay people off,’ she grumbled in her careless way. ‘A fine Christmas present that would be.’
Working nearby, Ethel Newby shook her head. ‘The word is he’s bringing Winifred in to show her the office routine. They say she’s to be put to work there.’
‘Never!’ For once Jennie was rendered practically speechless.
‘It’s true,’ Ethel insisted.
‘Well, I never did,’ a flabbergasted Jennie tried to make sense of what she’d heard. ‘It just goes to show how hard times have got.’
Vera disagreed. ‘You wouldn’t be saying that if it was a son we were talking about. Sons always had to learn the business, ready to take over, didn’t they?’
‘Yes and I suppose this is the twentieth century.’ Lily acknowledged that in the absence of a son there was no reason why a girl shouldn’t be given the same opportunities as a boy.
‘It’s about time young Winifred was made to earn her keep,’ Mary commented. As one of the older workers at Calvert’s she remembered Winifred Calvert as a spoiled child with a whining voice, dressed in a navy blue frock with a white sailor’s collar and straw boater, who would be left sitting in the car at the main entrance while her father dealt with mill business. This would be on a Saturday morning and often involved one of the junior girls from the weaving shed being sent out to entertain her, which really meant sitting beside her on the shiny back seat and being subjected to Winifred’s demands for sweets and toys. The round-faced, pretty girl had grown up to be tall and slender, fashionably dressed and with a mass of glossy, dark curls about which she was openly vain.
‘I bet it’s caused ructions at home,’ Vera observed. ‘I can’t see Mrs Calvert being in favour of her precious daughter getting her hands dirty.’
‘No, and whatever you think about a girl being worth as much as a boy, Lily, I say it’s a sign of the times that these days everyone has to muck in,’ was Jennie’s conclusion, moving on when Iris Valentine caught her eye.
After this, work went on uninterrupted until dinner time, when Lily joined Sybil, Annie and Evie in the steamy, noisy canteen.
‘Here, Lily, we’ve bagged you a place!’ Sybil called from a bench close to a window overlooking the unloading area where wagons delivered raw wool. Shouts from the wagon drivers were combined with the clatter of wooden wheels over cobbles and the droning of vast machines in the engine shed at the back of the mill. The smells that came up from the yard included the sour reek of untreated wool, hot oil from the engines and smoke from the chimneys.
‘Brrr, shut that window!’ Annie complained as she settled down to a dinner of tripe and onions, specially brought by Evie from George Green’s shop on Ghyll Road.
As Lily leaned over to close the window, she glimpsed something that made her heart skip a beat – the sight of Stanley Calvert’s gleaming car gliding along Canal Road.
‘Lily, stop standing there like a goldfish with your mouth open and hurry up and shut that window!’ Jumping up to do it herself, Annie soon saw what had caught Lily’s attention. ‘Oh, look who it isn’t!’ she cried. ‘It’s only love’s young dream.’
‘Who?’ Sybil wanted to know.
‘I’ll give you one guess,’ Annie teased while Lily blushed furiously. ‘Who do you think would make Lily turn beetroot red?’
‘Harry,’ Sybil said without a moment’s hesitation, though Lily hadn’t breathed a word about Monday night’s kiss. She spoke as if a romance between Lily and Harry were the most natural thing in the world.
‘Right first time.’ Annie stood with Lily to watch the mill owner’s car travel the length of the building then disappear through the main entrance. ‘I have to admit, the sight of Harry Bainbridge in his uniform is hard to beat.’ She sighed.
‘Lily’s got good taste, bless her,’ Sybil agreed while Evie was quietly embarrassed for her sister’s sake.
As soon as Lily had dismissed the memory of the accidental doorstep kiss, she found her voice. ‘You’re doing it again,’ she told Sybil and Annie. ‘You’re talking about me as if I’m not here.’
‘Yes, Annie – leave Lily alone,’ Sybil said with a wink at Evie. ‘Here, Lil, share some of these mushy peas with me. No? Not hungry? What on earth could have ruined your appetite, I wonder.’
‘“I’ll be loving you – always,”’ Annie crooned as she drew Lily back to the bench. ‘“With a love that’s true – always!”’
‘Behave!’ Lily implored.
‘Yes, best behaviour,’ Sybil agreed. ‘The boss has arrived so now we all have to mind our p’s and q’s.’
Stanley Calvert’s visit lasted through the dinner break and into the afternoon and included a grand tour of the building for Winifred, who floated through the sheds and warehouses in a crimson crêpe de Chine dress edged with cream lace. Over the dress she wore a fox stole and on her feet she had black patent leather shoes with heels that clicked along the stone-flagged floors. The outfit was completed by a cream cloche hat, which fitted snugly to her head and was decorated with red felt flowers.
‘She won’t last five minutes,’ was Jennie Shaw’s dour opinion after Calvert and his daughter had flitted through the mending room.
‘Aye, she’ll soon have the stuffing knocked out of her if she comes to work here,’ Mary agreed.
Vera raised her eyebrows at Lily, as if to say, ‘I don’t fancy Winifred’s chances among this lot,’ while Lily merely nodded. Privately she felt a bit sorry for Winifred Calvert, who seemed to stick out like a sore thumb, and she wondered if her being introduced to the business of worsted production was one of the bones of contention at home that Harry had mentioned. And yet Winifred had partly invited the hostile reaction as she minced from room to room, looking down her nose and refusing to catch anyone’s eye.
The flurry of gossipy interest surrounding Calvert’s visit went on well into the afternoon. When the news eventually filtered through that he and his daughter had left the premises, Lily paused to imagine Harry standing to attention as he held open the Bentley door for them. Harry had done well for himself, she realized. At least he’d managed to steer clear of the usual hard, dirty jobs open to men brought up in these narrow back-to-back streets – coal hauliers and draymen, cobblers, street cleaners and dustmen with old-fashioned horses and carts who came every other week to clear out the ash pits.
‘Settle down, please.’ Iris Valentine had been the one to show Mr Calvert out of the building and she restored calm as she walked through the mending room into her office. She’d reached the door when she remembered something and came back at a brisk pace to speak with Lily.
‘There’s no need to look so worried,’ she reassured her when she saw her anxious expression. ‘This isn’t to do with your continuing here in the mending room.’
It was the memory of her father’s ‘last in, first out’ prediction that had alarmed Lily and she gave a sigh of relief as the manageress went on to explain.
‘Mr Calvert confirmed to me on his way out that Winifred is to start work in the office first thing on Monday. He wants her to get a real feel for the business so she’ll need a clocking-on card and rules of employment the same as everyone else. I’d be obliged to you, Lily, if you would pop down there and ask Mr Wilson to prepare the documents.’
‘What then?’ Lily wanted to know.
‘Then he’ll give them to you and you’ll take them home with you this evening and call in with them at Mr Calvert’s chauffeur’s house. He lives near you, I believe?’
‘Yes, Miss Valentine. Harry lives on Raglan Road just down the alley from us.’
‘Very good. So you’ll hand Winifred’s documents over to Harry Bainbridge, who will take them with him w
hen he goes to work at Moor House tomorrow morning. It’ll be quicker than sending them by post.’
Understanding the task, Lily left her position and nipped downstairs to see the mill manager in the office where Iris Valentine had interviewed her for her new job. She knocked on the door and was told to come in by Derek Wilson’s secretary, Jean Carson, who was busy preparing wage slips at her typewriter. ‘Are you looking for Mr Wilson?’ she asked, fingers poised over the keys and peering at Lily over the top of her glasses. ‘Because if you are, you’ll find him in the weaving shed talking to Fred Lee about the wage bill for tomorrow. If he’s not there, try looking for him in the spinning shed.’
Nodding, Lily hurried on along the corridor to her old place of work, down the central aisle until she came to the loom where Annie worked. ‘Where’s Fred?’ she mouthed above the immense racket of the looms.
‘Office,’ Annie told her, glancing up for a moment and pointing Lily in the right direction.
On Lily went, through all the noise and dust, noticing Florence White hard at work at her own old job, replacing the spent bobbins that fed the giant machines. When she came to the office tucked away in the far corner of the barn-like room, she knocked on the door and went straight in.
It took her a few moments to make sense of what she saw inside the office. She’d been expecting to find Derek Wilson discussing wages with the over-looker at Fred’s high, sloping desk, but what she came across instead was Fred Lee in shirtsleeves and braces, standing to one side of a toppled chair. He seemed to be backing someone into a corner of the stuffy room, unaware that he was being interrupted. Lily had a glimpse of a dark grey pinafore and of a slim arm trying to push Fred away. Then she saw the girl’s long, fair hair.
‘Evie!’ Lily closed the door to block out some of the noise then rushed to intervene. She laid hold of the overlooker and managed to drag him back, allowing Evie to dodge out of the corner, her hair loose from its plait, eyes startled and with one hand across her chest to hold her pinafore in place.
Fred shrugged free of Lily and straight away began to cover his tracks, his small eyes set hard, his lips curling in a contemptuous smile. ‘A right little vixen, isn’t she?’ he began.
Cold with fury, Lily ignored him. ‘Evie, are you all right?’
Evie nodded, trembling as she pulled the pinafore straight then bending down to pick up her hair ribbon from the floor.
‘She scratches,’ the overlooker declared, showing Lily several red marks on the inside of his bare forearm. ‘There I was, explaining about my bad back and asking her to step up on that chair and reach me a ledger down from the top shelf. I held the chair steady for her like the gent I am and then what does she do? She only loses her balance, falls on top of me then turns on me for no reason and shows me her claws.’
‘Stop – don’t say another word!’ Lily cried as she pushed past him. ‘Evie, are you sure you’re all right? Can you get back to work?’
Still too shocked to speak, Evie nodded again.
‘Grand, then tie your hair back like a good girl, take a deep breath and go.’ Lily waited for Evie to leave the office before she spoke again. ‘It’s not on,’ she told the overlooker, pushed into outright confrontation by strong disgust. ‘Don’t think for a minute you can keep this to yourself. It’ll get out, people will talk.’
‘No, they won’t,’ he countered as he reached for his jacket, which was hanging on a hook behind the door. ‘Not if they want to hold on to their jobs.’
The threat wasn’t even veiled and it deepened Lily’s fury. ‘You can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you? It’s the truth and we all know it.’
Fred Lee’s eyes narrowed further. ‘“We”? Who’s “we”? You, Sybil, Annie?’
‘No – everyone. All the women who work here know what you’re like, don’t you worry.’
The overlooker’s contemptuous grin faltered for a moment as he looked ahead at the possible consequences. ‘It’s high time for you to calm down,’ he told her. ‘You’ll soon see that this is a storm in a teacup, a silly mistake.’
‘I saw what I saw,’ she insisted.
Feeling himself back in control, Fred’s tone grew more measured. ‘You were mistaken. Nothing happened except that your sister fell off a chair and I helped her back on her feet. So if I was you, Lily, I’d go home tonight and tell Evie not to be so clumsy in future. Oh, and I’d point out to her that she’s only been in the job five minutes yet she’s already causing trouble. You can see the sense of what I’m saying, can’t you?’
Furious, Lily had to back towards the door to keep herself from slapping the sneaky overlooker. ‘I’ll do no such thing!’
He shrugged then slid one arm into his jacket. ‘That’s a pity since jobs aren’t ten a penny these days. I don’t fancy Evie’s chances if she has to start looking for another.’
The reality of the situation hit Lily like a hard punch to the stomach. She pictured the sequence of events if Evie were to take a complaint to Derek Wilson. Fred Lee would deny it and point out there were no witnesses, Mr Wilson would take the line of least resistance and choose to believe Lee over Evie. He would hand Evie her cards. Then there would be the scene at home – a repeat of Margie’s confession of a week earlier, with Evie telling their mother that she’d been given the sack, followed by Rhoda’s unforgiving reaction and Lily having to step up to the plate as the only remaining breadwinner.
‘You see,’ Fred Lee said smoothly as he watched the changing expressions on Lily’s face, ‘this is the way thing work around here, and don’t you forget it, Lily Briggs.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘So, spill the beans, Lily!’ Annie was in high spirits as usual when she and Sybil met up with the two Briggs girls on their way to work the next morning. Despite the biting cold in the air as November turned into December, with the prospect of more short, dismal days ahead, she was determined to stay cheerful.
‘Yes, come on, Lil, there’s no need to be such a dark horse,’ Sybil added in the same jolly tone. ‘You were spotted calling at Harry’s house last night. We want to know every single word that passed between you!’
‘Oh, that!’ Lily laughed. She was thankful not to be talking about Margie or about yesterday’s incident between Evie and Fred Lee. ‘I had to hand over Winifred Calvert’s clocking-on cards, that’s all.’
Reaching the bottom of Albion Lane, the girls turned on to busy Ghyll Road, dodging between cyclists to cross the street.
Sybil didn’t let Lily off the hook that easily. ‘And what did Harry say when you just happened to knock on his door? Did he turn bright red then ask you in for a cuppa?’
Lily shook her head. ‘He was on his way down to the Cross to meet Billy.’
‘What, and he didn’t ask you to join them?’ Annie teased. ‘Was he too shy?’
‘I was busy anyway,’ Lily protested, glad that the entrance to Calvert’s Mill was already in view. ‘In any case, Harry and I have known each other too long to be anything besides friends. You know how it is.’ Since the kiss it had taken days of Lily talking sternly to herself and reining in her own feelings for her to reach this position and she was determined not to let Sybil and Annie think otherwise.
‘Yes, and you know what they say – there’s none so blind …!’ Sybil winked at Annie who winked back. Then, as they went under the stone archway, Sybil linked arms with Evie. ‘But never mind about Lily and love’s young dream, what I want to know is what made you so hot and bothered yesterday, Evie. You acted like a scared rabbit all afternoon – if anyone had said boo you’d have jumped clean out of your skin.’
‘It was nothing,’ Evie hastily replied, her pale face colouring up at the memory of Fred Lee’s hot hands around her waist as he pressed himself up against her, his podgy fingers reminding her of the sausage links hanging from a hook in Durants’ shop window. She and Lily had shuddered about it in their bedroom; Evie had whispered of how Fred had made her stand up on the chair then grabbed her from behind
, pulling her down and turning her towards him, groping her chest and planting a wet kiss on her neck as she struggled to escape.
In the end, Lily’s sole advice had been to keep out of the overlooker’s way and avoid being alone with him, but she knew that was easier said than done. In any case, they’d concluded that the least said was the soonest mended.
‘It didn’t look like nothing,’ Sybil said now as she walked into the weaving shed with Evie and Annie and they joined the queue to clock on. ‘I bet Fred Lee was getting up to his tricks behind our backs,’ she said to Annie.
‘More than likely,’ Annie agreed. ‘Listen, Evie, do you want me to mention it to Robert? I could ask him to take Fred down a peg or two if you like. I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige.’
‘No, please – don’t say a word!’ Evie begged, afraid of unleashing a backlash that would work against her.
‘No, better still,’ Sybil stepped in with a different idea, ‘Fred’s sister-in-law lives on my street. Why don’t I drop a word in her shell-like ear?’
‘Don’t say anything,’ Evie implored a second time. She clocked on then unrolled her apron and slipped it on over her head. ‘I don’t want a row over it, please!’
‘Best not to make a fuss,’ Lily agreed.
‘Yes, all right.’ Sybil soothed the sisters’ worries by promising to stay quiet.
‘Our lips are sealed,’ Annie vowed.
‘But watch out, Fred Lee – we’re on to you!’ Sybil declared as she took up position at her loom.
In the relative peace and quiet of the mending room, Lily spent the morning wondering firstly if she’d done the right thing by agreeing to let Evie smooth over the Fred Lee episode and secondly why it was that Margie hadn’t replied to a short letter she’d sent in Wednesday’s post.
‘Dear Margie,’ she had begun, aiming for a tone that she judged to be level headed and low key. ‘I’m glad we had our talk on Monday and I hope this letter finds you well. I see that you have to work things out for yourself but if it turns out that you can do with my help after all, you only have to ask. There’s still no need for anybody else to know what we talked about – just you and me, and that’s a promise. It would be nice to hear from you soon to let me know how you’re getting along. Send a letter back or get word to me some other way. There’s no news here in Albion Lane except that we miss you, Arthur especially, and we all send our love. Do your best to keep warm in this nasty cold weather and write to me soon. Your loving sister, Lily.’