Daughters of Courage

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘We’re going to make a bit of a mess on the seat, Trip.’

  Trip made a peculiar sound, something between a laugh and a sob. At that moment, Steve poked his head into the car. ‘Can I help? I’ve seen a birth before. When me mam had her last, I was ten and it came so quick, it arrived before the midwife could get there.’

  ‘Then you’d better get in here instead of me,’ Trip said.

  ‘No, mate, you stay with Emily. I’ll just be on hand if you need anything.’

  Steve knelt on the driver’s seat, watching anxiously as Emily panted and then pushed when she felt a contraction. ‘That’s it, Em,’ Steve murmured, ‘push when you feel the pain and then pant in between.’

  Emily almost laughed aloud. Steve was using Josh’s pet name for her and it brought her brother closer.

  Word seemed to be getting around the crowd now and a way through was being made for them.

  ‘You stay in the back with her, Trip,’ Steve said, ‘I’ll drive.’

  ‘No, no,’ Emily shouted, ‘Don’t go, Steve. It’s – it’s coming. I’m sure it’s – aaahh . . .’

  With one final wave of pain and a gigantic push, she felt the baby leave her body. At once there was a cry, a loud protest at arriving in the world in such an undignified manner.

  ‘It’s a boy. Trip, mate, it’s a boy!’ Gently, Steve reached over and took hold of the slippery infant and laid him on Emily’s breast. ‘We ought to cut the cord. Have you got a knife?’

  Trip wriggled in the cramped space to fish a penknife – a Trippet penknife – out of his pocket.

  ‘It’s brand new, so it’ll be clean. I only picked it up yesterday.’

  Steve chuckled. ‘You must have known . . .’

  Whilst Steve dealt, surprisingly deftly, with the business of cutting the cord, Trip said, ‘We ought to wrap him in something.’

  He scrambled out of the car and took off his shirt. Then, leaning back in, he laid it gently over the baby.

  Steve too removed his shirt and laid it across Emily’s knees. ‘To preserve your modesty whilst we get you to the hospital.’

  Emily, tired but elated, giggled. ‘It’s a bit late for that, but thanks, Steve.’

  It was a wonderful moment for them all. Despite the circumstances, Amy had been absolutely right. It was the best moment of Emily’s life. It even eclipsed her wonderful wedding day, though she would never tell Trip that.

  The journey to the hospital was now concluded in surprisingly quick time as word spread and the crowd parted. On their arrival, Steve dashed into the hospital and soon nurses and doctors surrounded the car. Before long, Emily and her baby boy were safely within the labour ward and Trip and Steve were able to breathe a sigh of relief.

  Trip put his hand on Steve’s shoulder and said, ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Steve. What would have happened if you hadn’t been there, I don’t know. And, by the way, remind me to buy you a new shirt.’

  ‘All in a day’s work.’ Steve grinned. ‘You’ve got a son, Trip. What are you going to call him?’

  Trip blinked. ‘I don’t know, but I reckon “Steve” will have to be in there somewhere, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, well,’ the young man said softly and his eyes were suspiciously wet. ‘Who’d have thought it. Thomas Trippet naming his son after me. Wait till I tell Nell. She’ll never believe it. Perhaps now, she’ll agree to us getting married.’

  Nineteen

  Nell did agree. She was proud of Steve now, not only for what he had done to help Emily and Trip, but also the way in which he was trying to turn his life around. And to confirm her belief in him, word came in a roundabout way through Eddie Crossland that the police were definitely no longer interested in Steve Henderson. It seemed that they, too, had heard that he was making a valiant effort to go straight and they wanted to help him do so. The former gangland leader was an example to other gangs and they hoped that if word spread amongst the city’s underworld that reformed characters would no longer be pursued, then there might be a few more who would decide that the time had come for them to give up their life of crime. But there was another – even more pressing – reason why the gangs who still roamed the streets, threatening the citizens and running their various criminal enterprises, might have cause to rethink their lives: the appointment of Captain Sillitoe to the post of Chief Constable. He had taken up his new post at the beginning of May and had vowed to smash the gangs once and for all.

  ‘Have you heard about him?’ Steve asked Trip, when they met in the pub for a celebratory drink before going home.

  ‘Yes, on the grapevine. I have to say, Steve, I hope he does it.’

  Steve laughed wryly. ‘You’ll be surprised to hear me say it, Trip, but so do I. Oh, I’ve been a bad lad in my time, but I was never so vicious as the gangs of youngsters we’ve got now. I never really hurt anyone. Well, maybe just one person. Mick Dugdale. I gave him something to remember me by, but he deserved it.’

  Trip was silent. He didn’t condone violence at all, yet he could understand Steve’s reaction to what Mick had done to his family.

  ‘Let’s just hope he stays away for good now.’

  ‘Amen to that, Trip. And here’s to your son.’ They drank to the baby’s health and as Steve put his glass down, he added, ‘I expect you haven’t heard, but the TUC has called off the General Strike. We’ll all be back at work tomorrow morning. Don’t forget to tell Emily when you see her tonight. And tell her, Nell will look after things at work until she’s back.’

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t want to name him after someone else,’ Emily said, smiling, when, on his visit that evening, Trip suggested that they should name their son after their rescuer.

  Trip pulled a wry face. ‘What I meant was I didn’t want generations of Arthurs or Walters or even Thomases, and I’m only suggesting it should be a second name, just by way of recognition of what Steve did. I’m not into “Big Steve” and “Little Steve” either.’

  Emily nodded soberly. ‘I agree. So, what do you think? I’ve thought of two: Andrew or Lewis.’

  ‘I like them both, but I think I prefer Lewis. Lewis Steven Trippet. What do you think?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Emily said. ‘Just like he is.’

  ‘By the way,’ Trip said as an afterthought, ‘the General Strike is over but the miners are fighting on.’

  Emily sighed. ‘Well, I hope they win. If it goes on for long, we’d better start thinking about setting up some soup kitchens or something.’

  Trip smiled to himself. That was Emily; despite the traumatic events of the day, she still had thoughts for others who might be facing hard times.

  There was a steady stream of visitors once Emily arrived home from hospital. Constance, bringing Martha with her, was the first to arrive. She stood over the cot gazing down at the infant, who looked up at her with blue eyes and waved his small fists. ‘I have a grandson,’ she murmured, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. For Martha, of course, the feeling was not so new, but the boy’s arrival was still a cause for joy and Martha had begun planning his future already.

  ‘There, Thomas, you have a son and heir to your family firm.’

  Trip smiled and nodded, but said nothing. He didn’t want to shatter Martha’s dreams, but he was very much afraid that if the unrest amongst the workers escalated, there might not be much of a future for his son at Trippets’.

  ‘As long as he’s healthy and happy,’ Constance murmured softly, ‘that’s all I ask for him.’

  When it came to choosing godparents, Emily and Trip found themselves with a dilemma. ‘We’ve got to have Josh and we ought to include Richard, but what about Steve? We can’t leave him out after everything.’

  ‘There’s no restriction on the number you can have, is there?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. The usual is two godfathers and one godmother for a boy and two godmothers and one godfather for a girl.’

  ‘Then we’ll just ask whoever we want. We must ask
Amy, of course.’

  ‘And I’d like to ask Nell.’

  ‘What about Lizzie?’

  Emily sighed. ‘I know – there’s her too. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.’

  ‘I tell you what. Why don’t we stick to the usual number? We’ll have Josh and Steve and Amy. There, how does that sound?’

  ‘All right, but what about Richard?’

  Trip chuckled. ‘I’ll tell him he’s top of the list for the next one.’

  ‘And I’ll tell Nell and Lizzie the same, because if it’s a girl, that’d be just right.’

  Trip took her hand and kissed it. ‘You’re a very brave woman to even think of having more babies after what happened.’

  Emily laughed. ‘Actually, despite the circumstances, it was a lot easier than I thought. The pain was bad, of course, but it didn’t last long. The nurses at the hospital told me that, for a first baby, he came surprisingly quickly.’

  ‘We’re very lucky,’ Trip said, his voice husky as he thought how very different the outcome might have been.

  Although Emily didn’t return to work for a few weeks, she organized the setting up of two soup kitchens in a local school and the distribution of free bread to help the miners’ families. The citizens rallied round and the miners continued their battle.

  Lewis was christened in Ashford’s church on a warm August morning in a double celebration with Josh and Amy’s second son, Philip, who had been born only a week after Lewis.

  The whole family was invited to Riversdale House for luncheon following the service and, although he was still confined to his bed, Arthur was able to hold his grandson in his arms and, with a lopsided smile, nod his delight to Trip and Emily.

  Belle and Richard had been invited to join the gathering and, after lunch, they spent a little time with Arthur in his room.

  Martha and the rest of the Ryan family left soon after luncheon.

  ‘Walter’s a little tired,’ Martha explained. ‘It’s been an exciting day for him. Two grandsons christened on the same day. Who’d have thought it?’

  And so Trip and Emily were left in the sitting room with Constance nursing her newly baptized grandson.

  Conversationally, she said, ‘George came to see Arthur the other day.’ With her gaze never leaving Lewis’s face, she did not see Trip and Emily exchange a quick glance. Carefully, and making no comment on his mother’s use of the factory foreman’s Christian name, Trip said, ‘That was nice of him. I think they always got on pretty well.’

  Constance gave a low chuckle. ‘As well as anyone could get along with your father.’

  Trip and Emily smiled weakly, but made no comment. Arthur Trippet had been a difficult man to live with and to work for, but it didn’t seem right to be speaking ill of the man lying incapacitated upstairs, closer to death than he was to life.

  There was a long silence, the only sound the baby’s snuffling in his sleep as he lay contentedly in his grandmother’s arms.

  At last, Constance said quietly, ‘I have known George a long time – longer, in fact, than I have known your father. We grew up together in Over Haddon. We were –’ she paused a moment as if searching for the right word – ‘good friends, but both our parents thought the friendship unsuitable. My father was a landowner – I think you know that – and held great sway in the district, whilst George’s father was the village wheelwright and blacksmith. To put it bluntly, my father was a snob, though of course I didn’t realize it at the time. I was just a young girl being obedient to her father’s wishes. He introduced me to Arthur and, well, you can guess the rest.’

  She was silent again and neither Trip nor Emily felt able to probe any further. But the conversation left them wondering . . .

  Although Steve had moved into the house Nell and Lucy shared with Dora Geddis, there was still no sign of a date for their marriage being fixed, but Emily was heartened to hear Nell singing at her wheel once more. Emily had returned to work only four weeks after Lewis’s birth, taking him in a baby basket beside her on the seat of her car everywhere she went. Trip insisted that she have some help in the house so they employed Flo’s younger sister, Daisy, to clean and wash and iron for them, though Emily made sure she was home by five o’clock every night to cook dinner for Trip herself. Far from being overtired, Emily seemed invigorated by the arrival of their son. Lewis was a happy and contented child and, in the evenings, they both enjoyed ‘family time’; bathing and feeding their son and putting him to bed. Although Trip was happy to be involved, he flatly refused to change nappies!

  ‘I don’t know what I’d do if he was a fractious baby,’ Emily commented more than once to Trip. ‘According to Josh’s last letter, Philip rarely sleeps through the night and is a difficult baby.’

  ‘We ought to go to see them all on Sunday.’

  ‘Yes, let’s, but on Saturday morning, there are a couple of people I want to take Lewis to see.’

  ‘Oh? Who?’

  ‘Mr Hawke, for one and –’ She paused before adding, ‘Mrs Dugdale. They’ve both seen him before, of course, but I want to keep in regular contact with them both.’

  Trip paused for a moment and then he nodded, ‘Yes, I agree. Mr Hawke has been extraordinarily good to you over the years and as regards Mrs Dugdale, it’s time to build a few bridges. Resentment and ill-feeling have gone on long enough. How is Lizzie, by the way?’

  ‘A bit quiet. Subdued, you’d say. Nothing like the bubbly, vivacious girl I first met when we arrived in Sheffield.’ She sighed. ‘It’s sad really.’

  ‘All because of her devil of a brother.’

  ‘I know, and we all thought he was so kind and helpful – and clever.’

  ‘He was clever all right, but, unfortunately, he put his ingenuity on the wrong side of the law. I wonder what became of him? Has Lizzie ever said that they’ve heard from him?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘Even if they had, I don’t think she’d tell us, do you?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  Twenty

  The buffing work had dropped off a little and so Emily’s girls did not now work at weekends. Early on the Saturday following her conversation with Trip, Emily called first at Nathan Hawke’s terraced house.

  ‘What a grand little chap,’ Nathan said, gazing down at the child. ‘I’m sure he’s grown since I last saw him.’

  ‘They alter almost daily at this age.’

  ‘It was a great sadness to my wife and me that we never had children. They’d be a great comfort to me now, I’m sure. That’s as long as—’

  Emily looked at him questioningly and with a wry smile, Nathan added, ‘As long as they hadn’t turned out like Mick Dugdale.’

  ‘I’m going to see Mrs Dugdale when I leave. Lewis’ll be wanting a feed by then.’

  ‘Well, you can—’ Nathan stopped in embarrassment. ‘Of course, I understand.’ Much to Emily’s amusement the man was blushing.

  To cover his confusion, Nathan turned to a safer topic. ‘How’s business?’

  Emily grimaced. ‘A little quiet, but we are keeping our heads above water – just.’

  ‘You’re still managing to run both workshops?’

  ‘Yes, though I haven’t used the first floor in the Broad Lane premises yet.’

  ‘And the three sisters you set on to work there – they’re proving satisfactory?’

  ‘Very. They’re excellent workers and you should see Winifred actually running between the two workshops acting as errand lass for everyone.’

  ‘And Trip?’

  ‘The same, really. Just holding on.’

  ‘I hope it doesn’t get any worse.’ He smiled at her. ‘I hear you’ve been very active in providing food for the miners’ families.’

  Emily looked up at him, but she could read nothing in the expression on his face. ‘Do – do you approve?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Wholeheartedly, my dear. I might have been classed as an employer in a small way, but I’ve always thought of myself as a worker. I�
��ve never forgotten my roots. I’ve just been lucky, that’s all.’

  ‘You’ve worked hard for everything you’ve got.’

  ‘So have you, Emily,’ he murmured. And, he thought to himself, she had a good heart. She hadn’t forgotten where she’d come from either.

  As Lewis began to stir, Emily picked up the large wicker basket she used to carry her baby. ‘I expect he’s getting hungry. We’ll be off. But don’t be a stranger to us, Mr Hawke. Come for dinner one evening. How about next Saturday? I’ll ask Richard to come too.’

  Nathan’s face brightened. ‘I’d like that. Thank you.’

  By the time Emily had parked the car in Garden Street and walked into Court 8, Lewis was whimpering. Lizzie opened the door. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No, I just thought that it was high time your mam saw Lewis again.’

  Lizzie blinked and then smiled uncertainly as she murmured, ‘How thoughtful of you. She’s been bombarding me with questions. Come in, do.’

  Emily stepped straight into the kitchen. ‘Hello, Mrs Dugdale. How are you?’ It was an unnecessary question really. Since Mick’s disappearance, in her distress, Bess had lost weight and was now was half the size she’d once been; her clothes hung loosely on her, her face was gaunt and her eyes were dark-rimmed. She looked as if she hadn’t slept properly for weeks. But, as she looked down at Lewis, she smiled. ‘Aw, Emily, he’s such a bonny little chap. Come in and sit by the fire.’

  ‘He’s ready for a feed. Would you mind if I . . . ?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Her smile faded as she added quietly, ‘There’re no men likely to come in now.’

  Emily settled herself beside the fire in the shining, black-leaded range in the very spot where her father had spent his days during the two years that they had lived here. She glanced round the kitchen; it was much as she remembered it. On one side of the range were some built-in cupboards from floor to ceiling. On the other side was a cast-iron copper, set in brickwork over a fire grate. Next to that was a stone sink with cupboards beneath it. Her mind flew back to the day when the Ryan family had first stepped into the house. Then, Bess had welcomed them and shown them round, telling them everything they needed to know about this new and strange world they had come to. Now, the rest of her family were back in Ashford, but Emily had returned to the city to make her life there with Trip.