The Buffer Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  Delighted by the man’s obvious pleasure in their work, Emily failed to pick up on his words or the resentment in his tone. It wasn’t until a long time afterwards that she remembered what he had said – and she understood.

  Twenty-Four

  ‘So,’ Martha said, ‘you’re a businesswoman now, are you?’

  ‘Not exactly, Mam,’ Emily said, trying to ignore the sarcasm in her mother’s tone. ‘It’s just that three of us have set up a workshop to do buffing work. It’s what a lot of women do in the city.’

  ‘Huh! And where’s the work coming from when they’re already laying folks off in the big firms?’

  ‘Mr Hawke gives us all his and one or two other little mesters he knows are now sending their work to us. We’ve got more than enough to keep us going at the moment. And he says we might pick up some work from the bigger firms too, if they get a time when the girls they employ can’t cope.’

  ‘Then why lay some off, might I ask?’

  ‘Because,’ Emily tried to explain patiently, ‘they haven’t got enough to keep them going full-time, all the time, but there might be occasions when they could do with extra help on a casual basis. A lot of the firms employ outworkers.’

  Martha sniffed and turned away, but not before Emily had heard her say, ‘Just so long as Josh doesn’t get finished.’

  The three girls had fallen into a routine of working. All three worked at the machines during the week, but on Saturday mornings, whilst Nell and Lizzie delivered the finished cutlery and collected new orders, Emily tackled the paperwork. It wasn’t so very different from what she’d done for their little chandler’s business in Ashford and soon she had everything entered into a ledger and all the purchases and sales invoices neatly filed.

  Nell was awestruck. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Emily,’ she said one Friday evening, as they were about to finish work.

  ‘We all have different skills, Nell. You’re brilliant at your work. I’ll never be as good as you at buffing, if I live to be a hundred.’

  Nell glanced over her shoulder, but Lizzie was still busy at her whirring machine and out of earshot. ‘You’re better than Lizzie and she’s been doing it a lot longer than you.’

  ‘Nice of you to say so.’

  Nell was still hovering instead of hurrying off home as she usually did. Emily glanced up at her. ‘What’s up, Nell?’

  ‘I ran into Ida last night on my way home. She – she’s being laid off at the end of the week.’ Nell bit her lip. ‘I was just wondering . . .’

  ‘If we could take her on?’ Emily finished her sentence for her.

  Nell nodded.

  Emily was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I think there’s enough work for another pair of hands, but we might need another buffing machine. She’s an “insider”, isn’t she?’ An insider polished the insides of the bowls of spoons. ‘But I don’t like to keep taking advantage of Mick’s goodness.’

  Nell laughed wryly. ‘His goodness, you say?’

  ‘Well, he has helped us, hasn’t he? I know he’s probably only done it for Lizzie but – even so . . .’

  Nell stared at her for a minute before glancing away. ‘Maybe Mr Hawke would let us have one of his old machines done up. That’d be cheaper than buying another. Then we wouldn’t have to ask any more – er – favours of Mick.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and see Mr Hawke?’ Emily murmured, bending her head over her ledger as she totted up a column of figures.

  ‘Ah, Lizzie’s stopping,’ Nell said, as they heard the other girl’s machine slowing down. ‘I’ll go and ask her what she thinks.’

  Emily looked up. ‘I wouldn’t; perhaps you might ask Mr Hawke about a machine first, ’cos you know what she’ll say.’

  Nell nodded, grimly. ‘Yes, I do. “Our Mick’ll get you one”.’

  ‘Exactly. Let’s make some discreet enquiries first and then, if we draw a blank, then – well, maybe we’ll have to go cap in hand to Mick again.’

  Nell stared at her for a moment before turning away and muttering something under her breath, but Emily, adding up the column for the second time, wasn’t listening. ‘You don’t understand, do you?’ Nell murmured as she moved away. ‘You really don’t know what’s going on.’

  Nell walked along the road and round the end of the street towards Mr Hawke’s workshop. Her head was held high, her shoulders straight, but her trim figure was hidden beneath the buff-brats she hadn’t bothered to take off. She carried a box of polished spoons she’d finished that morning. As she opened the door into his place of work, her heart sank as she saw Mick Dugdale standing over Nathan as he sat at his work. At the sound of the door opening, they both looked up.

  Nell paused a moment, disturbed by the look on Nathan Hawke’s face, but when he saw who it was, his expression lightened and he smiled. ‘Come in, Nell.’

  ‘’Lo, Nell,’ Mick said. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Fine,’ Nell said and forced herself to smile at him.

  ‘Plenty of work?’

  ‘Yes, we’re very lucky.’

  Mick smirked. ‘Oh, I don’t know about “luck”, Nell, but Mr Hawke here is very pleased with your work and he’s recommending you to all his cronies, aren’t you, Mr Hawke?’

  Nathan nodded, but his stare was still fixed on Nell’s face. She thought he was trying to communicate something, but she couldn’t guess what. Nell knew how to keep her counsel when necessary, so she smiled brightly at the older man and carefully placed the box on his workbench. ‘That’s the first half, but I’ll start your next batch first thing on Monday morning.’

  ‘No rush, luv, and I should have some more work for you the end of next week.’

  ‘Nothing from anyone else, yet?’ Mick asked, a sharp edge to his tone.

  With a swift glance at Nell, Nathan shrugged, ‘No more than the two I’ve already got for them, but I’m asking around. More work will come along very soon, I’m sure.’

  ‘It’d better,’ Mick muttered. There was an uncomfortable pause before Mick said, ‘I’ll be off, then. Duty calls, and all that. See ya, Nell.’

  ‘Mick,’ she murmured and waited until the door had closed behind him and the sound of his footsteps receded into the distance.

  Nathan heaved a sigh that sounded suspiciously like one of relief. ‘I really don’t like that young man,’ he muttered.

  ‘Is he – bothering you?’

  ‘Not really. No more than usual, and I’m glad to help you girls anyway.’ He glanced up at her. ‘You know what’s going on, don’t you?’

  Solemnly, Nell nodded. ‘But Emily doesn’t. She’s not been here long and she’s from the country. She’s a lovely girl, and clever, but rather – naïve.’

  ‘What about his sister?’

  Nell frowned. ‘D’you know, Mr Hawke, I really don’t know about her. Sometimes I think she knows exactly what’s going on and then, at other times, I think she just believes she’s got a very clever brother who knows a lot of people who’ll do favours for him.’ She sighed. ‘I honestly don’t know about Lizzie, but I do know that Emily is as innocent as the day is long.’

  Nathan Hawke nodded. ‘I rather thought as much myself when we first met.’ He paused and then asked gently, ‘And what about you, Nell?’

  He’d taken a liking to the girl and not just because she was good at her work. He would be rather disappointed if he found out she was in cahoots with Mick Dugdale.

  Nell returned Nathan’s steady gaze, her own open and honest too. ‘I don’t like it, Mr Hawke. I don’t like it at all, but I have to work. I have to look after my – mother, and there’s only me who can go out to work. So . . .’ She bit her lip, hoping he understood.

  ‘I see.’ He sighed and then said, ‘There’s one thing I didn’t say in front of him. The less he knows the better, though I expect he’ll find out. I’ve got a couple of contacts for you who’ll be pleased to give you some work.’ He stood up and went to his jacket hanging on the back of the door and fished in a pocket
. ‘I’ve written their names and addresses down. They’re not far from here. Here we are. Can you read it, Nell? I’ve lost my glasses again. I don’t know where I’ve put them. I had them before Mick came in . . .’ He looked around helplessly.

  Nell chuckled. ‘They’re on your head, Mr Hawke.’

  He put his hand up and found the spectacles he had pushed upwards. ‘Oh, yes, so they are. Thank you, Nell.’

  Nell took the piece of paper. ‘I’ll get Emily to go,’ she said, without even glancing at the paper. ‘She’s got a way with people that I haven’t and Lizzie certainly hasn’t.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you—’

  ‘Now, now, Mr Hawke, no flattery. I’m good at me work, I know that, and, fortunately, I know how to do a lot of the different processes, but I’m no good with the business side of things. Emily is. She’s done it before.’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember Lizzie saying something about Emily having run a small business before. What was it? D’you know?’

  So Nell explained what she knew of Emily’s background, finishing, ‘It seems her mother’s no time for her. All her ambitions are for Emily’s brother, Josh. He’s a nice enough lad and Emily thinks the world of him, but he’s a bit weak, to my mind. He didn’t stand up to his mother when he should have done.’

  ‘Ah well, maybe the lass will be the one to make the family’s fortune.’ He chuckled. ‘That’d be one in the eye for the mother, wouldn’t it?’

  Nell laughed with him, then said, ‘Oh, before I go, I nearly forgot what I came for, apart from bringing your work back.’ Swiftly, she explained about their plans to take another girl on.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do for you,’ he promised, and on that happy note she returned to their workshop waving the piece of paper with two more addresses on it.

  The work flowed in steadily. Ida joined them when Nathan discovered an old buffing machine in the small workshop above his own.

  ‘Ruby must’ve left it,’ he told Nell. ‘I’ll get it running again for you, so you can set your friend on if you’ve got enough work coming in now.’

  ‘We have, thanks to those two names you’ve given us and they, in turn, have already recommended another “little mester”, who can put work our way. And, in case you’re worried, I don’t think Mick knows anything about them. Emily sees to all the paperwork and Ida now collects and delivers the work at the end of each week.’

  ‘So you don’t think Lizzie has told her brother?’

  ‘I can’t be sure, of course, but I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.’

  ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t. I don’t want him paying them a visit. They’re good friends of mine. We play bowls together.’

  Twenty-Five

  Emily continued to meet Trip every Sunday. He was interested and excited to hear all about her venture, but he was apologetic about Josh having been sacked from Trippets’.

  ‘D’you know why?’ Emily asked him bluntly. ‘Was it because his work wasn’t up to standard?’

  Trip shook his head and seemed, to Emily, to be avoiding meeting her gaze. ‘I don’t think so. George Bayes said he was getting on nicely.’

  Emily thought she might know the reason after what her mother had admitted, but she didn’t want to tell Trip. She didn’t want to cause any trouble between him and his father, so instead she said brightly, ‘Anyway, Josh now has a good job at Waterfall’s and he really likes it.’ She forbore to say that he was happier there than he had been at Trippets’. ‘And our little business is doing very well.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ he said, seeming relieved that she had adroitly changed the subject. He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked through Weston Park one late September afternoon. Already, there was an autumnal chill in the air. ‘I’m so proud of you. I hope the work keeps coming in for you, though, because times are hard. Mr Bayes had to lay off three women in our buffing shop only last week.’ Trip sighed. ‘I know it’s unfair, but he lays off the women first and gives their buffing jobs to men. He feels the men have families to support, whereas—’ He stopped and bit his lip.

  ‘Whereas,’ Emily went on, ‘you don’t think women have the same responsibilities as men.’

  Trip sighed. ‘Some of them do, I know, but unfortunately there’s nothing I can do to influence Mr Bayes.’ He laughed ruefully as he added, ‘And certainly not my father.’

  ‘I know.’ Emily squeezed his arm. Trip was a kindly young man with none of his father’s ruthlessness in his nature.

  ‘Oh look,’ Trip said suddenly, ‘there are Josh and Lizzie. They’re talking to some woman sitting on that bench over there. Let’s go and say hello. I haven’t seen Josh for weeks.’

  Emily sighed but before she could argue, Trip was leading her towards her brother and Lizzie. She was disappointed to see that Josh and Lizzie were still walking out together on a Sunday. The more they appeared together in public, the more people would think that they really were a couple. And this was something she could do nothing about either. She was beginning to think, after all this time with no word from Amy, that perhaps the girl had met someone else back in Ashford and if that was the case, then she really couldn’t blame Josh for keeping company with Lizzie.

  As Emily and Trip approached, Josh looked up and waved. ‘Hey there, you two, come and meet our new friend, Mrs Beauman.’

  Beside her, Emily felt Trip give a little start and she glanced at him to see that he was staring at the well-dressed, pretty woman sitting on the park bench. But he recovered quickly and together they went forward to greet her. Emily smiled and shook her hand whilst Trip bent gallantly over Belle’s hand and kissed her gloved fingers. ‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,’ he murmured.

  Josh explained swiftly. ‘Some weeks ago, Mrs Beauman felt unwell here in the park and Lizzie and I took her home.’ He glanced down at her again. ‘We haven’t seen you since. Are you quite well now?’

  ‘Quite, thank you.’ She smiled as she glanced up at Emily and Trip. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. This is my sister, Emily, and this is Mr Thomas Trippet. You may have heard of his father. He owns Trippets’ cutlery works in Creswick Street.’

  Calmly, Belle smiled at them but inwardly her heart skipped a beat. At last, she was thinking, I’ve found them. As the young couple had approached, she’d had the feeling that this might be the young man she’d been trying to encounter for months. He fitted Arthur’s description perfectly, though, to her mind, the girl did not. She showed no surprise on hearing his name and now her acting skills came to the fore as she pretended to frown. ‘I’ve heard of the firm, of course, but I don’t think I know Mr Trippet. Tell me,’ she added, patting the bench beside her and inviting them to sit down, ‘do you work with your father?’

  ‘“For” rather than “with”,’ Trip laughed. ‘Father believes that I should start at the very bottom and work my way up to deserve the honour of one day owning the factory. I’m an only son – an only child, actually – so I suppose I’m destined to take over one day.’

  ‘Really?’ Belle murmured. ‘An only child, are you?’

  ‘Yes.’ His face sobered. ‘I should have had brothers or sisters, maybe, but poor Mother suffered two miscarriages after she had me.’

  This, Belle had not known; Arthur had not thought fit to tell her details of his life with his wife. ‘So,’ she said, smiling wistfully, ‘you must be doubly precious to your parents.’

  Trip smiled, but did not answer.

  ‘He’s precious to all of us,’ Josh laughed, thumping Trip gently on his shoulder. ‘We’ve been friends since childhood and despite living in a grand house in the village and us being the children of a lowly village candle maker, Trip’s never made us feel inferior to him.’ Now Josh gripped his friend’s shoulder and said huskily, ‘He’s one of the best, is Trip.’

  ‘I’m sure he is,’ Belle said softly and looked at the handsome young man with his black hair and his warm, honest brown eyes. She noticed
how he glanced at the pretty girl beside him with love in his eyes and there was no mistaking the devotion in hers when she looked at him.

  Belle felt a stab of guilt as she realized what she had to do.

  The following afternoon, Arthur called to see Belle.

  She had spent a sleepless night trying to decide if she dared to deceive Arthur, but in the cold light of morning she had resolved to tell him the truth. If he were to find out that she had not been completely honest with him, he would cast her off and, at her age, there would be no more wealthy lovers coming forward to take his place. It was very mercenary of her, she knew, but she had no choice.

  As he entered the apartment, he headed straight for the bedroom and began to remove his clothing, so great and urgent was his need of her. Belle waited until he was ready, for he liked to undress her himself; it heightened his desire. But today, she took little pleasure in his lovemaking, if it could be called that, for he took her quickly and selfishly. Later, as he settled beside the fire in the living room and watched her whilst she poured him whisky and soda, he said, ‘So, have you any news for me? Surely you must have found out something by now, or are you –’ his eyes narrowed and Belle knew she had been right to believe his retribution for deceit would be harsh – ‘playing with me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, Arthur,’ she was able to say truthfully as she handed him his drink. ‘It’s not been easy, for I never know which park to go to. I told you some time ago that I had met a couple, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did. The Ryan boy and his girlfriend, I believe.’

  ‘I didn’t get to know their surnames, but yes, the boy’s name was Josh. Well, I met them again yesterday.’

  Arthur grunted. ‘Well, I hope this time you had the sense to find out a bit more. It’ll soon be a whole year since I saw them together at the ball. God knows what might have happened in that time. You wouldn’t make a very good detective, Belle.’