The Dressmaker's Daughter

by Nancy Carson

  Tom did not sit down. ‘Here, I can do that, my flower.’ He reached the caddy for her. ‘Just you tek it easy. How’ve you been keeping?’

  ‘Oh, well enough.’

  ‘An’ our Lizzie?’

  ‘Lizzie’s happy. She’s courting now, Tom. But I suppose you didn’t know.’

  ‘Who’s she courtin’? Jesse Clancey?’

  She put her hand to her ear.

  ‘I said, is she courtin’ Jesse?’

  Eve calmly spooned tea into the brown, enamelled teapot, then set it down on the hob to warm. ‘That’s what I thought you said.’ Their eyes met. ‘What makes you think as she’s a-courting that Jesse? He ain’t the only fish in the sea you know. No, she’s courting a lovely lad from Tividale. A chap called Ben Kite.’

  ‘Oh? Am yer sure?’

  ‘Sure? ’Course I’m sure. He’s been here often enough. He was at our Joe’s with her on New Year’s Eve. You must’ve seen him.’

  ‘No, I don’t remember.’

  ‘Why? Who says different?’ She put her hand to her ear in anticipation of his reply.

  ‘Jesse called it off with our Sylvia. You must’ve heard. Sarah thinks it’s Lizzie’s fault.’

  ‘Well tell Sarah from me as it ain’t Lizzie’s fault. Whatever cock ’n’ bull story Sylvia’s told her, it ain’t Lizzie’s fault, take it from me. I suppose that’s why you ain’t been a-nigh?’

  He nodded glumly.

  ‘Then you ought to be ashamed – especially you, Tom – judging our Lizzie like that. You know very well she wouldn’t do a thing like that – pinching another woman’s chap. Especially somebody she’s close to, like our Sylvia.’

  ‘It’s as I thought, Eve. Sarah’s got the wrong end o’ the stick, then … but it’s only what our Sylvia’s told her. Don’t fret. I’ll sort it out.’

  ‘Whether or no, the damage is done.’

  ‘Well they’ve both always been jealous of Lizzie, you know that as well as I do. It don’t surprise me as either of ’em should grab the first chance to show her up in a bad light.’

  ‘I know all about that, Tom. But afore they spread wicked gossip they ought to get their story right.’

  He put his hand in the pocket of his cord working trousers and fished out a half sovereign. ‘Here, I’ve got a bit o’ widow’s pension I’ve been savin’ up.’ He pressed it on her.

  Eve gave it back. ‘I don’t want it. You won’t get round me like that … And you can stop your laughing.’

  ‘I ain’t trying to get round you, yer saft madam. After everything we’ve been to each other I hardly feel as I have to get round yer. I’m trying to help.’

  ‘If you’m determined to give it away, then give it our Lizzie this time.’

  Tom picked up the oven glove from the table and lifted the boiling kettle from the fire, then filled the teapot.

  ‘I’ll leave it for our Lizzie, then.’

  *

  On the Saturday evening when Lizzie left work Ben was waiting for her. She was so glad to see him. It was the first time she’d seen him for nearly a week.

  ‘Hello, stranger,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d forgotten me.’

  He took her hand and they started to walk down High Street towards the Market Place. ‘No fear of that, my flower. I’ve been thinking about you all the while.’

  ‘Flannel!’

  He laughed. ‘I never flannel, Lizzie.’

  ‘Except when you think I’m vexed at you.’

  ‘And are you vexed at me?’

  She shook her head and smiled.

  ‘Good. Thinking about you has been the only pleasure I’ve had this week. Have you heard about the fire at the Hamstead Colliery?’

  She said of course she had.

  ‘That bastard of a father of mine is one of the missing men.’

  She gasped. ‘Oh, no, Ben. Oh, I’m ever so sorry.’

  ‘I’m not. That’s why I haven’t been to see you sooner. Looking after Mother and that.’

  ‘You know, I feared as much. Something told me your father was one of those poor souls trapped, and I didn’t even know what pit he worked at. Your poor mother! How’s she taking it?’

  ‘Oh, I’d love to know what’s going on inside her head. She’s worried to death – bound to be. But she’s shed ne’er a tear yet.’

  ‘D’you expect her to?’

  ‘Maybe not. Not after he’s been such an evil swine. But he is her husband and the father of her sons. But knowing Mother, if she sheds no tears over him she’ll shed ’em all the more over the other poor devils stuck down there. If none survive, just think of all the heartache it’ll cause.’

  ‘I know. I could cry. Everybody you talk to feels the same.’

  High Street was busy with people rushing home. A tram crammed with folk whined towards Top Church, ringing its bell to warn stragglers walking in the horse road to make way. Lizzie and Ben turned into Union Street away from the mainstream, thus avoiding the Market Place and the crowds.

  ‘It’s ironic, Lizzie. We all hate our father’s guts, and more than once I admit I’ve wished him dead, but we all want him to come up from this alive. Not for himself, though. But if he survives we know as all the others should survive as well.’

  At Hamstead Colliery another rescue party from Barnsley in Yorkshire had arrived to help, but hope of finding the men alive was diminishing. Everyone waited anxiously for news. Prayers were said in churches the length and breadth of the nation for their safe deliverance. So far, however, the rescuers had only recovered the cat, and it didn’t survive long afterwards. As if to underline the hopelessness, one of the rescuers was overcome by poisonous fumes, and he died as a result.

  The lack of success so far did not augur well, but rescue work continued tirelessly, inspiring hope among wives and mothers who wept and waited at the pit head. There was a feeling that all this heroic effort and self sacrifice must surely bring good fortune. Nobody yet dared contemplate failure. Every night and every day, for nine days, the cage of the small shaft wound up and down, discharging exhausted rescuers, then slowly descended eighteen hundred feet below ground again with fresh gangs to continue the search. The process was pitifully slow, but so methodical was its organisation, and so strong the will to succeed, that everyone was lulled into a sense of expectant optimism; and those families who waited, though fraught with worry, remained remarkably patient.

  On the 12th, a Thursday, a large rescue party descended in the morning, but it was not until three o’ clock in the afternoon that onlookers watched in apprehensive silence when they saw the shaft wheels begin to revolve bringing them back up. Eventually, the bell rang and the cage came to a standstill at the mouth of the shaft. Only two men stepped out, blackened and weary, their breathing apparatus still strapped to their backs.

  They broke the tragic news that the first thirteen bodies had been found.

  Chapter 8

  Lizzie Bishop celebrated her eighteenth birthday that March, and she and Ben Kite welcomed the warmer weather, especially at weekends, when they would invariably take a tram ride on a Sunday afternoon to somewhere exotic, like the Birmingham Botanical Gardens, to Cannon Hill Park, or to the picturesque village of Kinver in South Staffordshire.

  It was during one such excursion to the Clent Hills in June, that Ben confessed he was in love with her, and expressed the hope that someday they might marry. It was news Lizzie had been longing to hear.

  ‘When I get this job as ladle man I’ll be earning more money,’ he said, looking across to the distant hills of Dudley. ‘That’ll help our savings.’

  ‘But when d’you think you’ll get it?’ Lizzie was industriously threading daisies into a chain.

  ‘Soon, I reckon. Old Amos, who does the job now, is past it. Charlie Lightwood, the foreman’s as good as promised it me. The only trouble is, I don’t know when, exactly.’

  ‘But if you never got the job it wouldn’t stop us getting married, would it?’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t
stop us. But the more I earn, the better house we can afford.’

  ‘Then it makes no difference at all, Ben. None at all. Wherever we live, Mother would have to live with us. So we might as well live at our house. That way we’d save money as well.’

  He laughed, put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I half expected as much. Oh, I think I can stand your mother round me. I like her. She’s a decent sort. And besides, she won’t be able to hear what we do when we’re abed.’

  Lizzie gasped theatrically. ‘Ben, that’s a terrible thing to say. It sounds to me as if that’s the only reason you want to get married.’

  ‘Oh, no, Lizzie. Don’t think that. I want to marry you ’cause I want to spend the rest of me life with you. I know we shouldn’t get married yet, though. You’re a bit too young. So am I, for that matter. But maybe in a couple of years – when you’re twenty. Mind, I hope I needn’t wait that long afore we have it for the first time.’

  She looked up at him, feigning shock and indignation. ‘Well, fancy that. Then if you got me into trouble we should have to get married before I’m twenty. No, Ben, you’ll have to wait till we’re married for that sort of thing.’

  ‘What’s the point in waiting, Lizzie? You want to as much as me.’

  ‘Then you know more than I do. How could you possibly know? You don’t know what I’m thinking.’

  ‘I can tell when you kiss me. When we have a real good session in the entry, I can tell as you want to. Anyway, you wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t. All women have them feelings – same as men – if only they could admit it.’

  ‘Well! I didn’t know you knew all about women. Anyway, whether I want to or not, I’m not going to.’ Her tone, half haughty, half kittenish, appealed to him. ‘Such things should wait. Anyway, a lot of women say it’s horrible and messy. So I’m quite content to put it off till then, if it’s that bad.’

  ‘Admit it,’ he persisted. ‘Admit that you do want to?’

  She looked at her daisy chain and smiled acquiescently, blushing a deep pink. Oh, yes, she wanted to all right; and he had no idea just how much. Some nights, when they became really engrossed in their kissing he could take her easily, if only he knew it; if only they were somewhere comfortable where they might not be disturbed. She tingled in all her secret places, but he never went further than fondling her breasts and, even then, never inside her blouse. When they’d enjoyed their last peck and said goodnight her lips still burned hot, as if tiny sparks were dancing on them. She always felt unfulfilled at those times and just a little light headed. When she was married it certainly would not be a question of having to put up with it. Even now it was more a question of how to refrain.

  ‘Go on, admit it, Lizzie,’ he pressed again.

  She put the daisy chain she’d made around his neck, stood up, kissed him briefly, and laughed. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s see if we can see that ice-cream man on his tricycle. I just fancy an ice-cream. Then we’d better get back if we’re going to church.’

  *

  Lizzie’s own meals were influenced by Eve’s dietary regime, and she lost a few pounds in weight herself as a result. Her figure became even more slender, more clearly defined, and ever more appealing to Ben. Her simple clothes only served to enhance her natural beauty and she looked good in anything.

  Eve remained well, due in part to Lizzie’s diligence. Dr. Donald Clark was still a regular visitor, frequently checking her condition and advising this, that, or the other modification to fine-tune her diet. He maintained that the occasional nip of whisky, or glass of stout, would do no harm. Accordingly, Tom and Sarah began calling for her on Saturday evenings to take her to The Shoulder of Mutton. It was company for her, especially now that Lizzie was out courting so often, and it went some way to easing Sarah’s conscience. Sarah had at last realised that Jesse’s jilting Sylvia could not be blamed on Lizzie, and she and Eve had consequently become reconciled after Sarah had apologised.

  It seemed that Sylvia Dando had recovered from Jesse Clancey quicker than anyone would have predicted, since she was already stepping out with a young man nearer her own age at twenty-three. He was articled to an architect in Dudley, and had a bright future ahead of him, but it would be some years before he started earning good money. So she did not set her sights on an early marriage this time. It was too soon yet to know whether he was the right man for her. She was intent on letting this romance go its own way. If the chance of marriage came and she felt like accepting it, all well and good; if it did not – then so be it.

  But James Atkinson was just a plaster for Sylvia’s sore. He took her mind off her real love and so dulled the pain. But although she did not love James in the way she loved Jesse, she couldn’t help admiring him, and so allowed his aspiring attention. He had great potential, after all.

  Sylvia still clung to her belief that Lizzie Bishop was behind her break-up with Jesse. She was convinced that the girl had tried to emotionally trap him at some time. They lived so close to each other, how could Sylvia possibly know what had gone on in Cromwell Street over the months when she wasn’t there to witness it? The subsequent reasoning of her father and her mother, after the real truth had come to light, made no impression on Sylvia at all. She loathed Lizzie for what she believed she’d done, and reaffirmed her vow that if ever the opportunity arose to hurt her, she would grasp it with both hands.

  Jesse Clancey, however, had met no-one. He still yearned for Lizzie Bishop and watched her comings and goings with Ben Kite, wishing, as they walked past the dairy house, that he was the one holding her hand. He accepted now that any chance there might have been was gone for good. The way those two were when they were together was plain for all to see, and he predicted that she and Ben would wed sooner or later. Yet it was not in Jesse’s nature to harbour any ill will towards his rival; his own stupid procrastination had cost him his best chance. What he saw and knew of Ben he did not dislike; the lad was always pleasant, ready to wave or call a greeting, and would no doubt be quick enough to buy him a pint if he saw him in a public house.

  *

  As spring turned into summer, Herbert Henry Asquith was appointed Prime Minister, following the resignation of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman through ill health. Jack Hardwick and his young bride of six months, Maria, became the proud parents of a bonny little daughter, christened Marjorie.

  And Stanley Dando came home on leave for two weeks in June.

  Stanley did not visit the Bishops, but Lizzie knew when he was due home, and that he was likely to be at church on Sunday with his mother and father. She was apprehensive about seeing him, because their all too brief romantic adventure had remained unspoken and unresolved for nearly two years, and she had not cast eyes on him since. Stanley was nearly twenty-one, and Lizzie wondered whether he still had his cheeky, girlish good looks; whether she would be able to look at him without feeling something. Would she be able to talk to him without blushing to her roots?

  The day came when all these questions were answered. As usual the two families, with the exception of Sylvia, who had defected to St. Thomas’s – Top Church – these days, met at St. John’s lych gate to catch up on gossip before the service. Ben, smart in a new navy blue suit, starched collar and necktie, stood territorially at Lizzie’s side.

  Stanley seemed taller, and broader in the shoulders as he stood, with military bearing, in his uniform. His face and his hands were bronzed and he looked an icon of lean, soldierly fitness. He was no longer the baby-faced, drowsy-eyed youth she used to know, but more masculine, rugged and, somehow, more worldly. There was a bright gleam in his eyes, an alertness that was never there before, and he exuded an air of quiet confidence and authority. Whereas he used to be casual and unconcerned, now he was as alert as a cat on the prowl; two years of army life, living on his wits, had made him as taut as a trip-wire. His hair was cropped short, gave him a muscular, flinty look. Oh, he was the same handsome Stanley, but so unbelievably different.

&nbs
p; And a hundred times more heart-stirring.

  He greeted Lizzie warmly when he saw her, with a brotherly kiss on the cheek, almost as if he’d never been away; as if there’d been nothing untoward about the way they parted. Lizzie felt herself tremble and, of course, she blushed vividly, which made her angry with herself, especially as Ben was watching. With her colour still high, she introduced them.

  ‘So this is your new chap, eh, Lizzie?’ Stanley chirped, confidently shaking Ben’s hand. ‘Somehow I never expected her to wait for me, you know, Ben. Just look at her. She’s too fine looking a madam to leave behind and that’s the truth.’ He even sounded different.

  She wasn’t sure whether this comment was sincere or just bravado. ‘You never let me know whether I was supposed to wait or not, Stanley.’

  Stanley smiled; one of his devastating smiles. ‘Would it have made any difference?’

  She turned to Ben to avoid a direct answer. All this talk of past familiarity warranted an explanation. ‘That’s how close we were, Ben. We’ve known each other all our lives, Stanley and I, and we had one night flirting with each other. Full of promise, it was … I didn’t see him again after that.’

  ‘Oh, I was always sweet on Lizzie, Ben, but the minute I made a play for her me father told me it was time I joined the army.’ He guffawed aloud. ‘I’ve never forgiven him, the rotten old sod.’

  ‘I suppose your loss is my gain, Stanley,’ Ben said pleasantly.

  ‘And if you’ve got any sense, Ben, you’ll snap her up pretty damn quick.’

  ‘Oh, I intend to. I certainly intend to … Anyway, what’s it like in the army? I’ve often fancied it.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a good life – in peacetime at any rate. It ain’t so bloody good when there’s a war on, though.’

  ‘I bet. So where are you stationed?’