Salem Street

by Anna Jacobs

  “Annie, love!” begged Sally.

  Pauline looked at Annie challengingly. “All right, then. Make good your boast. I need a new dress for a wedding next month. You choose the material, you choose the style and if it looks all right, I’ll wear it!”

  “All right, then, I will! But we’ll have to go into Manchester for the material. Hardy’s won’t have anything nearly good enough for you. And you’ll have to be there with me, so that I can see it next to your skin.”

  “We’ll drive over there in my carriage tomorrow,” promised Pauline, eyes glittering. She loved a challenge.

  So the next day, Annie put on the best of her new dresses, with its skirts supported by every petticoat she owned to give it a fashionable fullness. Over it she wore a matching short jacket and hastily-retrimmed bonnet. They drove into Manchester in Pauline’s comfortable carriage, chatting carefully about topics other than dress materials, about which Annie was nervous and Pauline still a little annoyed.

  Annie had forgotten how busy the city centre could be. The streets were jammed with vehicles of every description, from private carriages to heavily-laden drays or donkey carts, as well as horses and riders. The crowds of pedestrians all seemed to be walking briskly, as if they had urgent business to attend to and absolutely no time to spare. It reminded her a bit of London.

  When they entered the silk warehouse that Pauline always patronised, Annie lost her diffidence in her delight at the beauty of the materials on its shelves. It did not take her long to steer Pauline and the assistant away from the neutral tones and to narrow down her choice to two materials, one a subtle shot silk in delicate shades of lilac and grey, and the other a glacé silk in a pretty blue. Each was draped in turn in front of Pauline and in the end everyone was unanimous in preferring the blue.

  Thirty yards of this were carefully measured, folded and wrapped, then the ladies left to visit a bonnetmaker’s and a ribbon warehouse that Annie remembered from her days with Mrs Lewis. They followed this by the inevitable call at the Manchester Bazaar, where they were served by a Mr Thomas Kendal, who fussed over Pauline as if she were royalty. The huge shop was now lit by the new Bude gas lighting, which Annie had never seen before.

  “Progress,” said Pauline complacently, looking round. “Marvellous, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly makes the inside of the shop brighter,” agreed Annie. “Oh, I’ll never forget the first time I saw gas lighting in London. I just stood and gaped till Mrs Lewis shouted at me to keep moving. And now Bilsden has its own Private Gas Company and gas lights in all the main streets.”

  “I wonder how long it’ll be before people start installing gas lights in their houses?” wondered Pauline. “I couldn’t have it installed in Collett Hall, because we’re too far out of town for the pipes. Saul says he’s glad and he prefers candles when we’re sitting by the fire in the evenings, but I like a well-trimmed oil lamp, so that I can see what I’m embroidering, thank you very much. I don’t know about gas, though.”

  Annie nodded. She knew that Pauline rarely changed anything at Collett Hall, which she regarded as a sacred trust to be passed on to her eldest son. “Things are changing quickly. Too quickly, I think sometimes. And yet my stepmother doesn’t even have a proper chimney crane for her cooking pots and she makes do with candles and even tallow dips. She’s still living in the Dark Ages in Number Three.”

  When they had made all their purchases, the parcels were sent round to the livery stables where Mrs Hinchcliffe always left her carriage and the two ladies went for a stroll round the city centre, with Pauline pointing out the places of interest, such as the new Victoria Railway Station, named for the Queen, and the Free Trade Hall. They ended up at a large hotel, which had a room where unattended ladies of respectable appearance could be served with a lavish luncheon for only two shillings and sixpence a head.

  Annie, a little nervous in such surroundings, watched carefully what Pauline did and imitated all her actions. She remembered from Park House the array of cutlery and plates that the gentry used and no one, watching her, would have realised that this was the first time she herself had sat down to such a meal. Pauline kept an unobtrusive eye on her and was relieved to see that she had nothing to blush for in her protégée’s manners. After a while, however, she noticed that Annie was frowning and realised that she was not getting her full attention.

  “My dear Annie, you look as though you have the cares of the world upon your shoulders. I thought we’d agreed that we were going to enjoy ourselves for the rest of the day.”

  “I was just thinking about your dress.”

  “And worrying?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid of spoiling all that beautiful material. Thirty yards! And the lace alone cost more than I’ve ever spent on a dress for myself.”

  “You needn’t worry, Annie. I can well afford the loss of a length of silk if things don’t work out.”

  “It’s not just a length of silk to me, it’s my whole future that’s at stake!”

  Pauline patted her hand. “My dear, I’m sure you’ll manage very well, or I’d not have encouraged you. I am a good businesswoman, you know, even if you don’t approve of my choice of dress materials. You have a real flair for clothes. Look at the dress you made for Mrs Smith. And look at your own clothes. Even with cheap materials, you always manage to look elegant – or you do lately, since you started taking more care. While we’re on the subject, I want you to bear in mind that I would be prepared to help you financially, if there were any difficulties when you decided to expand your business interests.” Annie sat toying with her sherry trifle, her thoughts miles away from what she was eating. “It’s very kind of you, but I can manage on my own. I have some money put by.”

  “Now, I’m not having you skimp on things. You’ll need to find some good premises and furnish them elegantly, if you want to attract the best clientele in town.”

  Annie smiled wryly. “I won’t skimp. You needn’t worry about that. I know what the London salons look like. I went there with Mrs Lewis once. I’ve never forgotten and I shall work on similar lines. But …” she hesitated, not wanting to offend Pauline, “if I let you advance me money, you’ll want, quite rightly, to poke a finger in the pie. Tom’s done that with the second-hand business. He’s done quite well. We’re making more money than ever before. But it’s not mine any more. My dressmaking salon is going to be all mine.”

  “So you are going to take the plunge?”

  “Oh, yes. You’re right. It’s more than time I moved. I’ll start looking for premises as soon as we get back.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes.” Annie’s voice was quietly confident now that she had come to a decision. “Just like that. I’ve known for a while that I was ready to do something else, but I had to see how Tom went. So many of the people I know have left Salem Street. Now it’s my turn.”

  But when they got back, all thought of moving was banished from Annie’s head, and the parcel of silk lay unheeded in a corner, because William was ill. He’d been off-colour for a few days, but it hadn’t seemed much to worry about and he hadn’t complained. She’d thought it was just a cold or a chill. She castigated herself afterwards for being so blind, when the influenza was going around and who knew what else. There was always something at the end of the winter. William was now lying on Kathy’s old chairbed near the fire in the front room. His face was flushed, yet he was shivering and complaining that he was cold.

  “He came home from school,” said Kathy. “They sent him home, said he was too sick to study.”

  “I’m sorry, mother.” William tried to smile at her, but was prevented by another fit of shivering. Annie laid a hand on his brow and was alarmed at how hot it felt. “Some of the lads at school have got it,” he croaked. “Eddie an’ Harry are bad. They’ve had the doctor in.”

  “Then I think we’d better have the doctor in, too,” she told him quietly, hiding the fear in her heart. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt so bad?�
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  “I thought it was just a cold – and that I’d get better soon. And besides, you’ve been busy lately.” He sighed and huddled down under the blankets, his eyes flickering closed.

  “Kathy, go and get Dr Lewis, will you?” Annie asked. She looked across at Alice, not daring to put her fears into words. It looked like – No, she’d not think about it. Best to wait and see what the doctor said.

  Kathy was back in twenty minutes, panting from her run across the park. “He’s not in, but they’ll tell him as soon as he gets back,” she gasped. “I wanted to wait, but that maid wouldn’t let me. Stuck-up piece, she is! Said she’d deliver my message. But if Dr Lewis don’t come soon, I’ll go back again and wait on the doorstep, whatever she says.” Only for William would timid Kathy have been so brave; for William, she would have bearded a lion in its den bare-handed, and won, too.

  Two hours dragged past. They lit all the lamps and they tried to make William comfortable. None of them could settle to anything useful, because they all loved the boy too much. Although he was lying in front of the fire, he was still shivering and complaining of being cold. They didn’t dare take him upstairs. The bedrooms had no fireplaces and were like iceboxes in winter. William kept muttering to himself and he didn’t seem very sure of what was happening. Every now and then he accepted a drink of water, but there was nothing else he wanted, nothing they could do for him. Annie sat by her son as if her very presence would protect him. From time to time she looked at the clock, but said nothing. She knew Jeremy would come as soon as he could.

  Finally they heard brisk footsteps along the street, footsteps which stopped at their door.

  Alice’s “Thank God!” went unheard. Kathy flew to open the door, but she and Alice might just as well not have been there, because Jeremy strode across the room to Annie and William, without even glancing at them.

  “I came as soon as I got your message. I’ve been out at one of the farms.”

  William roused slightly as the doctor began to examine him and tried to push away the new clinical thermometer which Jeremy had acquired recently, to the immense distrust of his poorer patients. “It hurts,” he said fretfully. “My head hurts.”

  Jeremy finished his examination and turned to Annie. “Do you know what he has?”

  “I – I think so.” Her beautiful eyes stared at him from a white face. “It’s the fever, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so. It’s common name is scarlet fever. I’ve just come from another case, Edward Farley up at Bridge End Farm.” His voice was low, so that Kathy and Alice had to strain to hear him. “It’s a bad outbreak, I’m afraid, and this time it’s started in the better end of town, not the Rows. And to add to it, we’ve got the influenza going round as well. It’s been a bad winter for illness. I blame the poor summer. It doesn’t just give us a bad harvest, but a bad crop of illnesses, as well.” He forgot the boy and added indignantly, “And the sanitary conditions in this town are deplorable. I’ve been telling them for years that the water supply is not satisfactory and that their so-called sanitation scheme is a mockery. No wonder these diseases spread! Well, maybe they’ll listen more carefully now!”

  Annie wasn’t attending to most of this discourse. “You mean – William caught the fever at that fancy school?” She gave a mirthless croak of laughter. “And I was trying to keep him out of trouble by sending him there!” Her voice cracked abruptly and she fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. She could not afford to give way to any weakness while William needed her.

  Tom came in through the front door, whistling, the sound dying on his lips as he saw the doctor and the flushed child. “What’s happened? What’s the matter with our William?”

  Annie had control of herself again. “It’s the fever,” she said quietly. “It’s going round his school.”

  Tom looked from one to the other. “Bad?”

  It was Jeremy who answered. “It’s a very bad outbreak. We usually get it earlier in the winter. We won’t know for a while how badly William has it.” He turned back to Annie. “He’s always been a strong, healthy lad. It’s the little ones who succumb most easily.” His heart ached at the sight of her pale strained face. He knew how much she loved her son. If only he could have taken her in his arms and comforted her!

  “What must we do, doctor?” she asked, still quietly. “How can we best nurse him?”

  He forced himself to speak in a businesslike manner. “There’s not a lot to be done. You know the course of the illness?”

  “Yes. You can’t grow up in the Rows and not know about the fever.”

  “Keep him warm, but not overheated. It’s just as bad to get overheated as too cold. He’ll shiver, but you must feel his forehead to see if he’s too hot or not. As much fluid as he’ll take – and boil all your drinking water – for yourselves as well as for him. I think we should always boil our drinking water until we get a better supply, not just leave the cloudiness to settle, and so I’ve told Mrs Cosden. And keep everything clean – it seems to help – but then, you always do. He’s not come out in the rash yet. When he does, leave it alone, though you may sponge him with tepid boiled water. But no poultices or old-fashioned remedies!”

  “No, doctor.”

  “I’ll leave you a sleeping draught for him. How long has he been feeling ill?”

  “A day or two. We thought it was just a cold.” Her voice faltered again for a moment, but she took a deep breath and focused her attention on what the doctor was saying.

  “It’s best to keep him away from other people. It spreads by touch, we think.” He took her hand for a moment, as he would have done with any woman worried about her only child. “Don’t wear yourself out nursing him, Annie. It won’t do him any good if you fall ill as well. You have Kathy and Alice to help.” He let go of the small, firm hand reluctantly and nodded at the other two women. “And afterwards, it could be weeks before he recovers fully. That’s when you can do most for him. He’ll need plenty of fresh air and plenty of good food if he’s to get back to normal again.”

  Annie nodded. Afterwards … when he gets better … She repeated the words to herself like an incantation against evil. She had to keep on believing that William would recover. For all the doctor’s encouraging words, with the fever you could never tell who would succumb. It sometimes took the strong and left the weak.

  “I’ll come to see him whenever I can.” And you, Jeremy added silently. He was unaware that his eyes were betraying his feelings.

  Tom, who had not missed the doctor’s expression, came and put his arm round his sister. “Thanks, doctor. We’ll do what you said. And I’ll keep an eye on our Annie.”

  Jeremy walked slowly back through the Rows, stopping in the park for a few moments of peace. What he hadn’t told Annie was that his own daughter had a sore throat and that he was afraid that she too had contracted the scarlet fever. Oh, God, he prayed, let her have it lightly! She’s all I’ve got, all I’m ever likely to have. He had no fears for Annabelle’s safety. She was one of the healthiest women he’d ever met, in spite of her protestations of delicate health. She never seemed to catch even a cold. He was quite sure that she’d outlive them all.

  When he arrived home, his wife was waiting for him in the hallway. “Don’t come any nearer! Just tell me if it’s true!” she demanded, before he had even closed the door.

  “If what’s true?” He shut the door and turned to face her. He hated her most of all when she was in this sort of mood, with that shrill edge to her voice.

  “That there’s an outbreak of scarlet fever, as well as the influenza, in this godforsaken town. Is it true?”

  “We have several cases of scarlet fever, yes, mostly among the boys at the new school. I’ve just come back from visiting one of them. And there’s influenza going round, too, though I wouldn’t call it an epidemic. How far they’ll both spread, I can’t tell at this stage.”

  He took a step forward and she hastily moved as far away from him as she cou
ld, covering her mouth and nose with a perfumed handkerchief, whose cloying sweetness offended him far more than the smells of dirt and humanity he met in the Rows.

  He didn’t bother to hide his disgust. “You needn’t worry. I’ve no intention of touching you.”

  “But that’s two outbreaks of disease! Even worse than usual. And you’ll be visiting the sick and then coming back here. I’m not risking it. My mind’s quite made up. I’m going down to Brighton till it’s all over, and I’m taking Marianne with me. It’d be foolish to run the risk of staying here when we have somewhere safe to go. We can easily be down there in a day on the train. Just because you have to behave like a chivalrous fool, there’s no need to expose your family to danger!”

  “It’s too late to leave. I think it very likely that Marianne has already contracted something. I’m not sure what. Scarlet fever starts a bit like a cold. She was complaining of a sore throat last night.”

  Annabelle put her hand up to her own throat. “No!”

  He was pleased to see that she had at least got some feeling for her daughter, but her next words corrected this misapprehension.

  “Well, it’s not too late for me to go,” she said slowly, her brow furrowed in thought. “I haven’t actually touched her for a day or two, I think. No, I’m sure I haven’t been near her at all today.”

  “And you’d go away and leave her – with that hanging over her?”

  She scowled across at him. “What good could I do by staying? I’m no good with sick people. I loathe illness! And it’s Ellie to whom Marianne will turn, anyway. She always does when she’s ill. She’s far too fond of that woman. She picks up all sorts of coarse mannerisms from her. I’ve told you so before, but you won’t listen to me. She probably caught this fever from her, too.”