‘Are you really?’
Emily hid her smile at the surprise in Martha’s tone. ‘We are doing well, yes,’ she said carefully, ‘but it’s a big step. There’re the wages and increased overheads to think of. But, at the moment, we seem to have plenty of work coming in to cover it.’
‘I’ve suggested that she takes a workshop at Trippets’ – we’ve a space available, but because we’re some distance from Rockingham Street, she feels it would be difficult to operate two premises.’
‘Then she’ll have to learn to drive and you’ll have to buy her a little car, Trip, to travel between the two.’
It was the first time that Martha had ever taken an interest in Emily’s achievements. In her mind, a woman’s place was in the home and only a man should have a career. Emily gaped at her as, beside her, Trip said softly, ‘D’you know, Mother-in-law, that’s a very good idea.’
In his seat by the fire in the range, Walter smiled and nodded.
Five
When it was time for them to leave, Trip said, ‘I’m just going out to check on the motorbike. I’ll get Josh to give me a hand.’
He winked at Emily and she knew he was going to try to speak to Josh. She took her time in putting on her coat and tying a scarf around her head. Then she hugged her father and mother and went outside to see Trip and Josh standing together as if discussing the merits of Trip’s motorcycle. They both turned as she approached and she could see by Josh’s face that he had heard the news.
‘You just take care of yourselves – both of you,’ he warned, shaking Trip’s hand and kissing Emily’s cheek. ‘Oh, and by the way, I have to come into the city next Friday for supplies. And would you believe, I’ve got an order from a shop there. I think it’s one that’s rented from your friend Nathan Hawke. Could I come early on Friday morning, Em, and then stay the night with you?’
Nathan Hawke had been one of the city’s numerous ‘little mesters’, skilled, self-employed men, who had their own workshops and either worked alone or employed one or two men, usually carrying out certain processes of the cutlery trade for the larger firms. He’d had a workshop in Broad Lane and another in Rockingham Street and had been an enormous help to Emily since the day she had met him. In August 1921, Emily, Lizzie and Nell had been laid off from their employment at Waterfall’s in Division Street. The three girls had decided to set up their own little buffing shop with, it had to be acknowledged, Mick Dugdale’s help. It hadn’t been until much later that Emily, innocent at that time of Mick’s nefarious ways, had learned that he had threatened Nathan into assisting the girls. Only when Nathan got to know them properly and realized that they were ignorant of Mick’s intimidation did it become a genuine pleasure for him to help them. When the friendship between Lizzie and Emily had soured over Josh, Emily had left. For a time, she had worked alone in the small workshop above Nathan’s little mesters’ premises in Broad Lane. But with Lizzie in charge, the Rockingham Street venture had failed and a desperate Nell had begged Emily to employ her. With Nathan’s help, Emily had taken on both workshops and re-employed Nell and Ida, together with a young girl named Flo to work as errand lass for both premises. It had been Nathan’s workshop in Broad Lane that a vengeful Mick had set on fire with Emily and Nell trapped inside. Emily and Nell had continued the business, now called Ryan’s, in Rockingham Street. With Mick fleeing the city to escape the law and his mother and sister living in dire circumstances, Emily had taken pity on the girl, believing none of the catastrophes to be her fault, even though it had been her infatuation with Josh that had started the trouble. And so, Lizzie had returned to work with them, though the business from that time had become solely Emily’s. With the loss of one of his premises, Nathan had decided to retire, but Emily still saw him often and would never cease to be grateful for his kindness to her.
‘Bless him,’ she said now to Josh. ‘I expect he recommended you. He’s been so good to our family. I haven’t seen him lately. I must go and see if he’s all right. And of course you can stay the night. It’ll be lovely to have you, but you be careful too, Josh. If you were to run into you-know-who . . .’
‘I will,’ he said, as he helped her climb into the sidecar. ‘Safe journey,’ he mouthed now, as Trip struck up the noisy engine.
As they reached the top of the hill before descending into the city, it was already dusk. Conversation was impossible above the noise, but from time to time Trip glanced down at Emily, sitting beside him in the open-topped sidecar. He heard a rattle somewhere near his left foot and then a crack. At once he applied the brakes, but, to his horror, the sidecar suddenly broke away from the body of the motorcycle and veered to the left towards a ditch at the side of the road. He heard Emily scream, but there was nothing he could do as the sidecar landed with a bump in the shallow ditch. Trip came to a halt a little further on. He leapt off his machine, propped it on its stand and ran back towards Emily.
‘Emily, Emily!’ he shouted. Her head was resting against the grassy bank, her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving. He tugged at the sidecar, but it was wedged in the bottom of the narrow ditch. Then he tried to lift Emily out, but her unconscious body was too heavy for him to move. As he was struggling, the beam from the headlights of a car came over the crest of the hill and down towards him. Trip stood up and waved his arms. The car stopped and the driver turned off the engine. In the gathering gloom, Trip saw a tall, thin man unfold himself from behind the wheel.
‘Want a hand, mate?’
‘My wife’s in the sidecar, but I can’t move it.’
‘Right. We’ll lift it together.’
The two men straddled the ditch and hauled the sidecar up and set it on the side of the road.
‘I’ll hold it,’ the stranger panted. ‘You get her out.’
As Trip reached inside for her, Emily moaned and began to regain consciousness. ‘What happened? Where am I?’
Trip felt a surge of relief.
‘Wait a minute,’ the stranger said. ‘You ought to make sure nowt’s broken before you move her.’
‘My feet are wet,’ Emily murmured. ‘Why are my feet wet, Trip?’
Still steadying the sidecar, the man leaned towards Emily. ‘Are you hurt, missus?’
Emily looked up at him and smiled stupidly. ‘Hello. Who are you?’
‘Your knight in shining armour, luv.’ The man grinned. Now he was closer, Trip could see that he had curly fair hair and a strong, good-looking face, but the facts, for the moment, didn’t really register in his concern for Emily. Only later was he to remember what their rescuer had looked like.
‘I – don’t think so. I’ve no pain.’
‘And you can feel your feet?’
‘Yes. They’re cold and wet. What’s happened, Trip?’
‘The sidecar broke away from the bike. Now, I’m going to lift you out, my love, but tell me at once if anything hurts.’
Emily nodded.
Gently, Trip lifted her out and set her down on the bank above the ditch.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Emily?’
‘Yes, yes, I think so.’ She put her hand to her head and felt a small lump. ‘I think I must have bumped my head and passed out for a minute or two.’
‘Let’s get her in the back of my car,’ the stranger said, ‘and I’ll take her t’Royal. You bring your bike, but I don’t think we can do much about this –’ he gestured towards the sidecar – ‘till morning.’
Trip picked Emily up in his arms and placed her tenderly on the rear seat of the man’s vehicle.
As the car set off and he returned to start up his motorcycle, he realized he still didn’t know the name of their rescuer and by the time he arrived at the hospital, the young man had disappeared.
‘Once he handed me over to a nurse, he was gone,’ Emily explained. ‘He seemed anxious to be off.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t like hospitals.’ Trip smiled. Now he could see that Emily was unharmed, he could smile again. ‘Lots of folk don’t.’
It was very late when at last they arrived home from the hospital, Emily having been declared unhurt, if a little shaken. ‘A day’s rest and she’ll be fine,’ the sister in charge had said.
‘Now, off to bed with you. I’ll bring you up some cocoa and you have a day off tomorrow. I’ll go to Rockingham Street in the morning and tell the girls what’s happened.’
That night Trip lay with his arms around her as she slept against his shoulder. He sent up a prayer of thankfulness that she was unhurt and for the timely arrival of the unknown man. Trip shuddered to think what might have happened if he hadn’t come along at that moment. Silently, he promised himself that Emily would not ride in the sidecar any more. The next day he would buy a motor car.
Emily returned to work on the Tuesday morning.
‘A’ you sure you should be here?’ Nell asked. ‘Trip came and told us what happened.’ She grinned. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d’ve thought you were just taking a Saint Monday.’
‘Taking a Saint Monday’ was a tradition, particularly in the cutlery industry, and was when workers did not go in to work. It was treated almost as another Saturday night with visits to the pub, playing cards or just drinking and talking. Most firms turned a blind eye, for their employees, many of whom were on piece work, always made up the time lost later in the week.
‘I’m fine,’ Emily said. ‘I’m still a bit shaky, so I won’t be working at the wheel today, but there are orders to take out and work to collect. A nice walk around town will do me good.’
‘Take it steady. No rush.’ Nell waved her hand as she returned to her wheel. Before she started the machine, she laughed, ‘Trip told us a handsome young man stopped to help you.’
‘Thank goodness he did,’ Emily said. ‘I might still have been sitting in the ditch, if he hadn’t.’
By the end of the day, Emily felt quite well again and it was almost as if the incident hadn’t happened, but when she arrived home it was to find a shiny new car sitting outside their house; a green, open-topped two-seater. Trip was standing proudly by it. He put his arm around her shoulders as they stood side by side to admire their new acquisition.
‘Oh Trip, what have you done? Can we afford it?’ Emily asked worriedly.
‘I don’t care whether we can or not. I’m not having you in danger like that again. I’ll keep the bike to go to work on, but just for me. No more sidecar rides for you, my love,’ he added firmly, tapping her nose with his finger. ‘And the next thing is for both of us to learn to drive and I know the very person to teach us.’
‘Who?’
‘Kirkland, of course. I’m sure Mother would let him come into the city once a week to give us lessons and then you can think seriously about setting up another workshop in Trippets’ premises.’
That night their tender lovemaking was even more special. Trip knew Emily could have been badly injured or even killed. His thankfulness that she had escaped unscathed and his gratitude to the ‘Good Samaritan’ were boundless.
Six
‘I don’t know about you lot, but I’ve had enough for today,’ Emily said on the Thursday evening when they’d all worked later than usual. Already it was seven o’clock. She stepped back from her wheel and shook the black dust from her apron. ‘Nights are pulling in now we’re in September. It seems to get dark quicker here than in the country, but maybe that’s just my imagination. Anyway, I don’t fancy staying too late and having to walk home in the pitch-black.’ She left the words unspoken but they all knew what she meant: not now Mick Dugdale might be roaming the city streets.
The machines slowed.
‘Just let me finish these spoons and I’m right with you,’ Nell said, as the other girls tidied up their workbenches and collected their belongings from the little room at the rear of the workshop. They clattered down the stairs, walked through the workspace where a grinder, Phil Latham, had his little mester’s business on the ground floor, and out into the damp, early evening air. There were just Nell and Emily left and they exchanged a glance, remembering the time when they had been working late together and Mick Dugdale had found them.
‘You go, Emily,’ Nell said. ‘I can lock up.’
‘No, I’ll wait for you. You’ve nearly finished. Besides, we ought to stay together as much as possible just now.’
Nell pulled a wry face, understanding at once.
Emily watched her friend at work, as fascinated as ever to see the shining spoons emerge from Nell’s skilful hands. Nell Geddis had taught Emily the buffing work when they had both worked for Waterfall’s, but it had been Emily who had had the courage to keep the modest business going even after Mick’s murderous attempts. Now, she was the buffer missus in charge of four girls and it might soon be more, if their reputation continued to spread. Word travelled fast on the ‘cutlers’ grapevine’ as Emily laughingly called it. Recently, she’d hardly needed to go out looking for work; it came to them and she was spending more and more time at the wheel instead of taking care of the administrative side of the business. The paperwork piled up and she often took it home at weekends to catch up.
‘You’re working too hard,’ Trip told her constantly. ‘We should be getting out into the countryside or to see our folks on a Sunday, Emily.’ But he was proud of her achievements and his admonishments were only gentle ones.
As Nell finished the final spoon, they heard a voice calling from below. A woman’s frightened voice. ‘Nell – Nell, are you there?’
Nell’s eyes widened as she stared at Emily for a brief moment. ‘That’s me mam. Whatever—?’
Nell hurried to the stairs and almost fell down them in her haste. Emily followed, anxious too. Dora Geddis rarely ventured from her home; her legs were bad and walking very far was painful. It must be something very serious to have caused the woman to travel all the way to Rockingham Street from their home.
‘Mam –’ Nell had reached her. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘It’s Lucy. She’s not come home from school.’
‘Not come home!’ Nell repeated. ‘But it’s gone seven. She should have been home three hours ago. The little tyke!’
‘Oh Nell –’ Tears flowed down Dora Geddis’s wrinkled cheeks. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I went to the school, but they said she’d left at the usual time with all the other children. Wherever can she be? She’s always been such a good girl – never caused me a minute’s worry before . . .’ Dora hesitated and added, ‘Well, only that one time last week when she was being bullied and came here to find you. Nell, you don’t think those awful girls have locked her in somewhere, do you?’
Despite her anxiety, Nell laughed grimly. ‘Not after I’d finished with them; they wouldn’t dare.’
‘Could she be playing out somewhere or have gone to a friend’s house,’ Emily put in tentatively, ‘and lost track of the time?’
Nell shook her head. ‘No. She might play out later, but she knows now that she must go straight home to Mam first. Last week – when she came here – was the first time she’d ever done such a thing, wasn’t it, Mam?’
Dora nodded.
Nell bit her lip, her eyes anxious, but then there was a sudden spark of anger. ‘If she hasn’t . . .’ The words and her tone implied that Lucy would be in big trouble if she had been disobedient.
‘Do you think those bullies have waylaid her?’ Emily suggested. ‘Maybe it isn’t her fault.’
‘If they have, I wouldn’t be in their shoes when I catch up with them again.’
‘Should we go to the police?’ Dora asked hesitantly.
Nell glanced at her briefly and then looked away. ‘No,’ she said firmly, ‘but I know who I can ask.’
Dora gave a soft sigh and nodded. ‘Aye, you’re right, Nell. He’d be the one to help us, though—’
Nell touched her mother’s arm. ‘It’s all right, Mam. Steve knows what the score is.’
Catching on, Emily said, ‘Steve? Steve Henderson?’
Even amidst her anxiety
, Nell smiled wryly. ‘He is Lucy’s dad, Emily. You know that. And if anyone knows what’s going on in this city, then it’s Steve.’
Emily forbore to say what she was thinking. Of course he does, because he’s behind most of what happens – the criminal activities, that is. But she said nothing. Nell would sup with the Devil if it meant finding Lucy quickly and Emily, for one, couldn’t blame her. Emily and Trip longed to have children and though it hadn’t happened yet, she could imagine a mother’s fear only too well. And she could come close; if something like this were to happen to Harry, her little nephew, whom she adored . . .
Steve Henderson, the leader of the largest gang in the city, was Mick Dugdale’s sworn enemy. Once they had been friends, but then their two gangs had opposed each other until the day that Mick had been forced to flee the city after his attempt on Nell’s and Emily’s lives. Rumour had it that he now had a jagged scar down the left-hand side of his face; a parting gift from Steve. With their leader gone, the Dugdale gang had fallen apart and its members had joined other mobs, one or two even gravitating towards Steve. But now, Mick was back . . .
‘Nell,’ Emily said swiftly, ‘do you think Mick might have something to do with this?’
Nell stared at her in horror before whispering, ‘Oh my God, Emily. Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.’
Emily gripped her arm. ‘Come on, we’d best get moving. Do you know how to get hold of Steve?’ Whilst Emily wouldn’t normally have been party to using a gang member instead of the police, sadly, on this occasion – if her supposition was right – she had to admit that Steve was probably the best person to help.
Nell nodded.
‘Then you go and find him and I’ll take your mother home—’
‘No – no,’ Dora protested. ‘You go with Nell. I’ll be all right. Just – just find her.’ The woman dissolved into tears again.
Daughters of Courage Page 3