Daughters of Courage

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘I see.’ His mother hadn’t sent word that anything was seriously wrong. Trip wondered why. Waving ‘goodbye’ to the Ryan and Clark families, they set off to drive the short distance past the church to the ivy-clad house standing in its own grounds beside the river. Driving round to the courtyard at the rear of the house they entered by the kitchen door. Mrs Froggatt, the cook, beamed a welcome and Polly scuttled upstairs at once to tell Constance that they had arrived.

  The cook had worked for the Trippet family since before the war. Once, there had been a full staff of servants at Riversdale House, but now only a cook, a kitchen maid, a housemaid and Kirkland, the chauffeur-cum-gardener, looked after the family and the house. Only Mrs Froggatt and Polly, the housemaid, lived in, as did Nurse Adams, who cared for Arthur Trippet. Ginny, the kitchen maid, came in daily and Kirkland lived with his wife on the other side of the village.

  ‘Luncheon will be in half an hour, Master Thomas.’ Mrs Froggatt’s face sobered as she added, ‘Perhaps you’d like to see your father first.’

  ‘How is he?’ Trip asked, not wanting to reveal that Martha had already told them about the latest episode.

  Mrs Froggatt shrugged, but seemed to presume that Trip and Emily already knew the latest news. ‘Doctor says he’ll be all right, but I think you’ll see a change in him.’

  ‘We’ll go through,’ Trip said, taking Emily’s hand as Polly returned to tell them that the mistress was in the morning room.

  ‘My dears, what a lovely surprise.’ Constance rose from her seat in the window and stretched her arms wide to embrace them in turn.

  ‘What’s been happening?’ Trip asked. ‘Mrs Froggatt implied that Father’s not been too well.’

  ‘He had a very minor stroke on Friday.’

  ‘You should have sent word, Mother,’ Trip said gently.

  ‘I would have done, had it been any worse, but Doctor Unwin has told us that he’s likely to have small ones every so often and, in themselves, they’re nothing to worry about.’ She hesitated.

  ‘I feel a “but” coming,’ Trip prompted softly.

  Constance smiled faintly. ‘But – he said that the more he has, the worse they may become. We should be prepared for that.’

  ‘I see. Is he all right for us to visit him?’

  ‘Of course. It would be best if you went up now, before luncheon. It takes Nurse Adams a long time to feed him and then he has a nap.’

  Trip held out his hand to her. ‘We’d like you to come up with us, Mother. We have something to tell you both.’

  For a brief moment Constance looked anxious as she glanced at each of them in turn, but then she nodded and led the way upstairs.

  After the usual greeting, Trip said, ‘Mother – Father – we have some happy news to tell you. Emily is expecting a baby.’

  ‘Oh, my dears!’ Constance clapped her hands and tears filled her eyes. She rarely allowed her emotions to show, but the thought of becoming a grandmother had filled her waking thoughts ever since her son and Emily had been married. Her joy in her son had been boundless, but the sorrow that she had been unable to have a larger family still haunted her. She hugged first Emily and then Trip. Even Arthur managed a lopsided smile, though Trip was concerned to see that his father seemed thinner, his eyes dark ringed and his cheeks hollow. However slight the doctor had said the most recent stroke was, it had definitely left its mark. But, much to Trip’s relief, his father could still understand what was being said to him.

  Over luncheon, Constance talked so animatedly about the expected arrival that she could hardly eat her meal.

  ‘I don’t mind what it is – I expect you don’t either – as long as it’s fit and healthy. My dear Emily, you must take good care of yourself and please, please let me know if there’s anything you need.’

  ‘I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo it,’ Trip said and added proudly, ‘though there’s no way I’m going to even try to stop my wife carrying on with her growing business empire.’

  Seventeen

  The weather for December was cold and Trip promised Emily, ‘As long as it doesn’t snow, we’ll go to Ashford for Christmas. We’ll stay at Riversdale House but see your family often.’

  It was a happy time for them all. At Constance’s invitation, the whole family assembled at Riversdale House after lunch to open their Christmas gifts. Trip and Emily had bought a self-assembly model aeroplane for Harry and the afternoon of Christmas Day was spent with the four men – Bob, Walter, Josh and Trip – poring over the instructions whilst Harry waited impatiently for the model to be ready for him to play with. When it was complete, he ran around making engine noises as if it were flying.

  On Boxing Day, the weather turned a little milder. In the afternoon, Trip and Emily walked up to Monsal Head, one of their favourite places, taking Harry with them.

  ‘Are you sure you can walk that far, Emily?’ Trip asked anxiously. ‘I don’t want you to overdo it. You were busy all morning helping your mother prepare lunch for us all.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Emily reassured him. ‘As long as I take it steadily, the exercise will do me good.’

  ‘We’ll take you for a ride on the train in the summer, Harry,’ Trip promised, as he pointed to the viaduct over the river in the dale far below them. ‘We’ll be coming over to Ashford quite often. We’re going to have a little boy or girl soon and your Granny and Grandpa Ryan will want to see him or her as often as we can come over.’

  Harry nodded. ‘I know. Mummy told me and she’s going to have another baby too. I hope it’s a little boy this time for me to play with. Sarah always wants to play with dolls and she’s got two more this Christmas.’ The little boy grimaced, but he was laughing as he said it.

  ‘But you got a lovely train set and the model aeroplane and both your granddads will play with those with you. Besides,’ Emily laughed, ‘it’ll be a little while before the new baby’s big enough to play with you, won’t it?’

  Harry was a sunny-natured child and they knew his complaints about his younger sister didn’t go deep. They’d witnessed for themselves how gentle and patient he was with her and how he often forfeited his own playing time to amuse her.

  ‘Now, we’d better be getting back. We’re having tea with you at your house, aren’t we?’

  As they turned to go, they noticed that Harry was dragging his heels. Then Trip realized just how far the four-year-old had walked.

  ‘Would you like a piggy-back, Harry?’ He squatted down, whilst Emily helped the boy to climb onto his back.

  The three of them set off down the hill towards the smithy.

  ‘I’m ready for my tea, aren’t you, Harry?’

  Emily laughed. ‘You can’t possibly be hungry after that huge lunch.’

  Trip laughed. ‘Oh, but I can.’

  Amy and Emily were keeping well in their pregnancies. Later that evening, when the children were in bed, they found a few moments to be alone. Emily was keen to ask her sister-in-law’s advice.

  Amy laughed. ‘The menfolk worry about us doing too much, especially my father.’

  Emily pulled a face. ‘And Trip’s mother, too. But they mean well.’

  ‘No doubt, and both of them have cause for concern – we know that. My dad’s bound to be anxious when I’m pregnant. But how can I slow up with three menfolk and a little one to look after? And I can’t see you taking it easy either.’

  Emily touched Amy’s hand. ‘Harry’s such a loveable little boy. He’s very like Josh, isn’t he? His eyes are hazel, just like his dad’s.’

  ‘But his hair’s fair like mine. He’s the perfect mixture of both of us.’

  ‘And Sarah’s a pretty little thing, but she’s quiet and shy, isn’t she? Trip says he wants a girl, but I hope it’s a boy.’

  ‘I have relatively easy childbirths, unlike my poor mother. I hope it will be as good for you.’

  Emily pulled a face. ‘I have no idea what to expect.’ So, for the next hour the two young women talked about childb
irth and caring for a baby. Far from worrying Emily, she ended the conversation by saying, ‘D’you know, Amy, I can’t wait now?’

  Solemnly, Amy said, ‘There’s nothing – absolutely nothing – so wonderful as holding your baby in your arms.’

  The New Year of 1926 started well, but by March there was industrial unrest.

  ‘I think there’s going to be real trouble soon,’ Trip said dolefully one evening when Richard had been invited to dinner.

  Emily, though heavily pregnant now, was as energetic as ever. As she served the food and then sat down herself, she said, ‘What sort of trouble, Trip? Street fights again, d’you mean? Gang warfare is still rife, I hear.’

  ‘I know. I thought, with Mick Dugdale gone and now we’ve taken Steve Henderson off the streets and made an honest workman of him, the rest of them would lose heart. However, it seems the youths are taking over. Mind you, there’s talk of someone being brought in to sort these gangs out. But no, it’s more serious even than that in a way. There’s unrest amongst the miners and I think it will have a knock-on effect throughout the country.’

  ‘I thought that had all been settled last year when the Government granted a subsidy to the mining industry,’ Richard commented. ‘And didn’t a Royal Commission undertake an inquiry?’

  Trip nodded, his face grim. ‘Yes, and that report has just been published this month. Unfortunately, it recommends that the subsidy be withdrawn and that miners’ wages should be reduced and that they should work longer hours too.’

  Emily frowned. ‘But why would a miners’ dispute affect us?’

  ‘Because I think it’s so fundamental that workers everywhere will unite behind them.’

  ‘So you think it’s going to affect the cutlery industry too?’ Richard said quietly. The two young men glanced at each other. Though half-brothers, they were remarkably alike in appearance, and the more she got to know Richard, the more Emily could see that they were alike in other ways too. They were both kindly men and good employers. They were thoughtful regarding the welfare of their workers.

  Trip’s forebodings were well founded. In April the miners were subjected to new conditions – a cut in wages and longer hours. The workers were given until the beginning of May to accept the terms or risk being locked out of their place of work.

  ‘That’s so unfair,’ Emily said, rattling the newspaper in her frustration.

  Trip agreed with her. ‘But the miners are fighting back. They’ve adopted a slogan. “Not a penny off the pay, not a minute on the day.” But I fear the whole country’s going to come to a standstill if other trades follow suit in support.’ He glanced anxiously at Emily and she could read just what was running through his mind.

  She patted his cheek and joked, ‘I don’t expect it will affect midwives or hospitals.’

  ‘There’s no knowing,’ he said gloomily. ‘All our workforce are threatening to join in and goodness only knows how long it might last if there’s a nationwide stoppage. What about your girls?’

  ‘I expect they’ll carry on.’

  ‘They might not be able to, if they get threatened.’

  ‘Threatened? You’re not serious?’

  ‘I’m afraid I am. They’ll likely have picket lines and anyone trying to get into work will be called a blackleg or scab or worse.’

  ‘But we’re self-employed. We—’

  ‘You are, but not the others. You employ them. They’re workers, just like all Trippets’ employees.’

  ‘Oh.’ Now Emily had no reply. She was thoughtful for a moment before saying quietly, ‘I’ll have a talk with them tomorrow.’

  The following morning, Emily broached the sensitive subject with all the girls. ‘I don’t want you to run the gauntlet of picket lines. You must stay at home out of danger, if it comes to it.’

  Nell pulled a face. ‘I’m not frightened of that, but to be honest, we haven’t got a lot of work in at the moment. I don’t think we will have until all this trouble is over.’

  Lizzie gave a wry laugh. ‘Or we might have a helluva lot more if the factories are all shut down.’

  ‘We’ll just have to see what happens. In the meantime, we’ll just carry on as normal – as far as we can.’

  ‘When are you due?’ Lizzie asked quietly.

  ‘About the first week in June,’ Emily said.

  ‘You’re looking well – blooming, as they say – but you ought to take it a bit steadier these last few weeks. Have you got a midwife organized?’

  ‘No, Trip wants me to go into the hospital. I think he’s over-anxious because of what happened to his mother.’

  ‘That’s understandable,’ Lizzie murmured, and then smiled. ‘So, just take care of yourself, Emily, for all our sakes – but especially for your baby’s.’

  Emily nodded, unable to speak for the sudden lump in her throat.

  Eighteen

  On Saturday, 1 May, the miners went on strike and the Trades Union Congress called for a nationwide General Strike in sympathy, which began at midnight on Monday, 3 May.

  After the first few days, when all their workers had joined in the protest, Trip told Emily dolefully, ‘It’s turning into a class war.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘The middle classes – the white-collar workers – they’re driving buses and lorries with essential food supplies. Even trains. Some of the university students are treating it like a holiday from their studies. I just wonder if they realize the seriousness of it all.’

  ‘So you mean they’re acting against the workers?’

  ‘Of course they are. If supplies get through and the general public don’t feel the pinch, the strikers won’t be able to prove their point.’

  Despite the gravity of their conversation, Emily couldn’t help smiling impishly at him. ‘You’re middle class. Aren’t you going to help them?’

  ‘No, I am not. I want all workers to have a decent day’s pay for a good day’s work. Don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, but I’m working class. You aren’t.’

  Trip was forced to laugh. ‘Emily Trippet . . .’ He touched her face tenderly. ‘You’re not any class. You’re a woman of great courage and tenacity, with a big heart. You’re a one-off. Don’t ever change, will you?’

  ‘Oh Trip,’ she put her arms around him and snuggled her face to his chest, ‘you say the nicest things.’

  On the morning of Tuesday, 11 May, Emily awoke with sharp contractions in her lower abdomen. She washed and dressed quietly, made herself a poached egg on toast and checked that she had everything ready in her suitcase before she gently woke Trip.

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me earlier?’ he said, scrambling hastily out of bed and pulling on his clothes. His hair tousled, his chin with the shadow of dark stubble, he began firing questions: ‘Is everything ready? Have you had something to eat? We’d better go now. It’s earlier than you said, Emily. Is everything all right?’

  ‘Trip darling, calm down. The contractions aren’t that regular yet. No need to panic. You get something to eat too.’

  ‘I couldn’t eat a thing.’

  ‘Yes, you can and you must. It might be a long day.’

  For a brief moment, he stared at her and then put his arms around her. ‘How are you so relaxed?’

  ‘I need to be and so do you. Now, get washed and shaved and have your breakfast, even if it’s only a slice of toast and a cup of tea this morning. And then we’ll go.’

  Twenty minutes later, they were ready to leave.

  ‘You sit in the back, Emily. It’ll be more comfortable. I’ll put your case in the luggage box.’ Only the previous week, Constance had insisted on buying them a second car. ‘You’ll need a bigger car now your family is expanding,’ she’d said happily. ‘But Emily should keep her two-seater for her business. You’re both competent drivers now, so please let me do this, Thomas. Call it an early present for my grandchild.’ So now Trip drove a four-seater Morris Oxford ‘bullnose’ car with a roomy back seat ready for a baby
to travel in style.

  By the time they left, it was mid-morning and the route to the hospital was thronging with strikers intent on stopping all vehicles, wherever they were going. As they surrounded the car, banging on the roof and the bonnet, Trip tried to plead with them. ‘Please – let us through. We’re going to the hospital. My wife’s in labour.’

  But above the hullabaloo, no one was listening – or they didn’t want to.

  ‘Trip, the pains are getting worse and – and closer together. We have to get going.’

  He tried revving his engine, but the strikers merely surrounded the car, jumping on the bonnet and bouncing it.

  Emily bit her lips to stop herself from crying out as a wave of pain washed through her. When they were losing hope of ever being able to move, a tall, fair-haired man shouldered his way through the crowd and opened the door on the driver’s side.

  ‘What’s up, Trip?’

  ‘Steve – oh thank goodness. Can you get us through this lot? Emily’s gone into labour. We’re on our way to the hospital.’

  Steve cast a worried glance at Emily now stretched out on the back seat. At once, he straightened up and began shouting, but no one was listening to him either. Then he grabbed one or two men by the arm and shouted at them. ‘Make a way through for this car. There’s a woman in the back about to give birth.’

  Several appeared to listen to him and tried to clear a path for the vehicle, but there were just too many people. Now, Emily could not hold back her cries.

  ‘Trip, my waters have broken. There’s a towel in my suitcase. Can you get it for me?’

  Trip got out of the car and fought his way to the rear of the vehicle, pushed and jostled as he went. Strangely, the crowd was not hostile; the atmosphere was almost like the streets on New Year’s Eve or on Armistice night, but only the men nearest to the car realized what was happening. Now, they tried to help.

  ‘I’ll find a policemen or an ambulance,’ someone said.

  ‘They’ll not get through any more than we can,’ Trip muttered, climbing into the back of the car. ‘Oh Emily . . .’ He was close to tears, but through her pain, Emily managed to smile. She eased herself up a little and drew her knees towards her chest, opening them so that if the baby wanted to come, it would have a clear way.