The Wives’ Revenge

by Lindsey Hutchinson

  Violet loved Joyce’s odd expressions and the way she could relate a tale. She had a knack of being funny without even trying.

  Joyce went on, ‘I sez to him, “Well you would be able to afford it if yer got yer arse in with Woolley’s buyer”. That’s when he started to take notice. “Care to explain?” he arkses me. “Ar,” I sez, “Woolley’s nails aye bin no good, he cor sell them and his buyer needs a new supplier.” Well, his eyes fair lit up they did!’

  Joyce was enjoying relaying the exchange with her employer and had exaggerated her Black Country way of speaking to enhance the tale. She moved on swiftly.

  ‘I watched him rub his hand over his whiskers an he said, “Joyce, my girl, if I get that contract, you get your raise.” Well, I was right pleased with meself, I can tell yer! I never expected him to give me a raise either!’

  ‘Good work, Joyce!’ Violet said, pouring more tea. ‘Now, we sit back and watch Frank Woolley and his factory go down the drain.’

  *

  Spencer and Violet had met with Joshua for dinner on one occasion, and despite her worry that Joshua had reservations about the wedding in the first place, she felt he had warmed to her now. They discussed the preparations for the wedding which were well underway. Kath and her daughter were both very excited about the prospect, and Violet’s feelings towards her intended grew stronger each time they met. The church was booked and the flowers were ordered. Then all of a sudden the day finally arrived for Violet’s wedding and the sun shone as if just for her. St. Bartholomew’s church bells tolled, calling everyone invited in for the service, and she and Charlie, Annie’s husband, walked up through the streets to Church Hill. Women and children came to their garden gates as the entourage wound their way up Trouse Lane and Wellcroft Street into Ethelfleda Terrace, calling their good wishes as they passed by on their way to the church that sat at the top of the hill.

  ‘Thank you for giving me away, Charlie,’ Violet said as they walked.

  ‘Thank you for asking me,’ he answered, ‘I feel very honoured especially as I don’t have a daughter of my own. Annie cried buckets when I told her – in fact I’ll bet she and your mum are crying right now.’

  Violet smiled, ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  As Violet entered the church, she spotted her mother who was dressed in a green brocade dress edged with darker green silk piping and hat to match sat in the front pew with Annie. Violet heard the gasps as Charlie walked her down the aisle to where Spencer stood. Turning to look at the man she was about to marry, Violet smiled as she wiped away a happy tear rolling down his cheek.

  The service was conducted and Mrs Violet Gittins left the church on Spencer’s arm; a new husband, a new name and a new life.

  Outside the church gate stood a white horse with white ribbons plaited in its tail and mane. The carriage behind the horse had white ribbon bows on the door handles. Climbing into the carriage, Violet and Spencer were pelted with rice before they set off for Gittins Manor and all invited guests strolled along behind chattering contentedly.

  The gardens had been set out much the same as they had been for the picnic, tables and chairs, food and drink, but first Violet had to meet the staff. They were lined up at the foot of the front steps of the house and a round of applause sounded as she stepped down from the carriage aided by Spencer. Walking along the row of staff, he introduced them one by one, Betty the maid, Mrs Jameson the cook, Harold the gardener, and Fred the stable boy… Her head was spinning thinking she would never remember their names but she maintained her smile. The very idea of having servants overwhelmed her somewhat, but she kept her head high and smiled graciously.

  Before long, people arrived and began to mingle, having a thoroughly enjoyable day. Violet was with Kath and the ‘Wives’ when Spencer approached, with his father by his side.

  ‘Darling,’ he said taking Violet’s elbow, ‘come and say hello to Father. Dad, say hello to my wife.’ She flushed at his introduction as it was the first time she had been referred to as his wife… and she liked it.

  Joshua said, ‘Forgive my not being able to meet with yourself and your family more often, my dear, but business has been erratic, I’m sure you understand. Welcome to our family, Violet.’

  Spencer introduced everyone to his father and leaving them to talk he pulled his new wife away, saying, ‘He just loves you!’

  Violet said, ‘Of course he does, why wouldn’t he?’ Laughing together, they mingled and chatted with everyone.

  As night fell, people left for their homes until it was just Spencer and Violet remaining. The staff had been dismissed, retiring to their beds above the back stairs, and the pair walked up the sweeping staircase. Opening the bedroom door, Violet felt panic sweep over her. Taking her in his arms, Spencer kissed her tenderly before saying, ‘Goodnight darling.’ Violet was surprised to say the least as he closed the door quietly behind him. Her surprise was tinged with a little disappointment at being left alone, but she realised Spencer was giving her time. He had been so kind knowing she would need this time to come to terms with living with a new husband. Violet looked around her new bedroom and smiled. Not his and hers – just hers. Again she was surprised for it had not been discussed that she would have her own bedroom.

  Seventeen

  Frank Woolley had called his foreman to the house and when both were ensconced in the ‘den’ he had raged at the poor man. It was hard not to hear the ranting of her husband even had Primrose not tried.

  The foreman, Jack Hesp, had explained that he couldn’t understand why the nails were not up to their usual good standard. Nothing had changed in the process of making of them, as far as he was aware.

  The nailer’s equipment was simple. There was a hand hammer, a small anvil, a ‘bore’ or hollow tool in which the partly finished nail was placed to have its head formed, and a treadle-hammer for heading. The iron rods were heated in a small hearth, similar to that used by a blacksmith but much smaller. Skills were developed by long practice and the nailer could make two brush nails, which were like large tacks, every six seconds. They were surprisingly uniform in size and shape, the more so as the nailer had no means of measuring and judged the amount of iron needed which was worked solely by eye.

  Jack Hesp went through the process before Frank yelled, ‘I don’t bloody care, Hesp! But I tell you this, if I can’t sell those nails we all go under – you an’ all. Lay off half the women, I ain’t got the money to pay them, and if the next batch is the same as the last lot, every last one of you gets the sack. Now get out!’

  Primrose heard Jack Hesp leave the house and braced herself for the verbal onslaught she felt would surely come her way.

  Frank blustered into the room, standing in front of the fire, legs astride.

  ‘Bloody work is more trouble than it’s worth,’ he huffed.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Primrose asked.

  ‘Nothing to bother your head about. Women don’t know about business, so keep your nose out!’

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered.

  Pacing the room, Frank spoke as if to himself. Listening keenly, Primrose feigned disinterest. ‘Bloody women at the factory buggered up the nail process, I’ll be bound! Now that bugger in Wolverhampton won’t buy the nails, he says they’re inferior… my nails inferior! Bloody cheek! Chucked them back at me he did, he said the workmanship was shoddy! He said he’d had complaints of nail heads coming off!’

  Primrose watched him make a track in the rug as he marched up and down the room, his hands behind his back, making his stomach stick out even further than usual.

  ‘I’ll have to find another buyer now and bloody quick, otherwise…’

  Pricking up her ears she waited.

  ‘I’ve laid off half the workers, the rest will follow suit if I’m not careful, then I’ll have to sell the bloody factory, as if anyone would buy it. I’ll be bloody penniless!’

  There it was! Just hearing him say the words was music to her ears and a discreet smile edged her mou
th.

  Her smile quickly disappeared as he spoke again, ‘You’re not much better, with your barren body, can’t even give me a child! Don’t know why I married you in the first place! Oh sod it – I’m going to The Green Dragon to get drunk!’ With that he strode from the room slamming the door behind him and Primrose’s smile grew wide again as she settled in her chair before the fire.

  *

  Primrose saw Violet in the market the next day. Wedding or no wedding, life pressed on relentlessly. She whispered the news and both women nodded. They rushed off together to Kath’s house and after tea and cake Primrose explained Frank’s rage of the previous evening.

  Primrose said urgently, ‘He’s looking for a new buyer!’ Worry was written all over her face.

  ‘Who is?’ Martha asked, walking in the back door.

  ‘Frank,’ Primrose said, ‘he can’t sell the nails round here so he’s looking for a new buyer!’

  ‘Don’t fret yourself wench,’ said Martha, ‘we can put a stop to that an’ all.’

  ‘How? How can we stop him?’ Panic began to rise as Primrose saw all the hard work of the ‘Wives’ slipping away.

  ‘Time we had a word with the canal people?’ Violet asked.

  ‘Precisely,’ Martha said with a wink.

  The waterways of Wednesbury were linked over most of England and they joined Gas Street Basin in Birmingham and ports further afield such as Liverpool and Manchester. Barges laden with goods travelled the canals, stopping off regularly to load and unload cargo or just moor up for the night. The canal people – locally known as the ‘cut rats’ – carried news up and down the waterways.

  Violet said, ‘We need to feed the news to the canal people so they can pass it on that people should stay away from buying nails from Frank Woolley…’ she looked at Primrose, ‘because they are no good. They can also say to buy from Gittins’.’ Casting a look at Martha, she received a beaming smile in return.

  ‘Oh Violet!’ Primrose said with the utmost respect. ‘Thank you! Thank you all!’

  *

  Walking home, Primrose felt better than she had in a very long time. The ‘Wives’ were helping her exact her revenge on her abusive, spiteful husband. She almost felt a spring in her step as she went, thinking it wouldn’t be much longer before she would see Frank Woolley down and out.

  The spring she almost had in her step was lost completely as she realised she still had to go home. She still had to live with Frank a while longer. She still had to endure the verbal lashings aimed at her every day, and she still had to bear the beatings for being unable to conceive.

  Primrose prayed the canal people would be kind enough to spread the message far and wide. Someone’s bad luck always made for good gossip, so it was a sure bet Frank’s bad luck would be known round and about in next to no time.

  As she walked she had noticed, as if for the first time in her life, the difference in the housing in each street. From the small two-up two-down houses in Hobbins Street which opened directly onto the cobblestone road, where she had once lived herself, each crammed against the next with the entryway leading to the back; to the houses in Trouse Lane which boasted three or more bedrooms and stood in their own grounds; to the still larger properties where she now lived, in Church Hill. She fretted about where she would live once Frank was undone. She wouldn’t be able to stay in the house so she would have to leave him, or more likely he would throw her out. How would she live? For the moment, however, her mind was still on seeing her brute of a husband brought down and as poor as a church mouse. Once that was achieved she could concentrate on herself.

  Stepping up the drive to her house, Primrose thought again of the canal people relaying the message of Frank’s faulty nails and allowed herself a big smile before walking in through the front door.

  Eighteen

  With tea finished and the dishes washed, Violet and Kath had walked along to the canal towpath towards the Basin. There were barges moored up all along the pathway and they stopped at every one under the pretext of inspecting the goods for sale.

  Besides toting cargo, the canal folk, as Violet preferred to call them, made ‘dolly’ clothes pegs – a piece of wood with a wedge cut into one end and rounded like a head on the other end – beautifully painted roses on tin kettles and pots and pans – all manner of things which they sold to anyone who would buy.

  ‘Cut rats’ had become a derogatory term used to describe the people of the canals. A few caught thieving or fighting while drunk had unfortunately tarred them all with the same brush. Most were just trying to eke out a living, as indeed everyone else was, and life on the canal was known to be very hard.

  Passing from barge to barge, the gossip was shared about the roughshod way Frank Woolley ran his factory and the rubbish nails he tried to pass as good products. Gittins’, on the other hand, took care in their work, producing good nails time after time, as well as looking after their workers. People would be well advised to buy their nails from Joshua Gittins in the future.

  Having bought a little something from each barge, Violet’s purchase would ensure the message would be spread – and quickly. Even as they walked back along the towpath, barges began to move away, and with a wave, their message had set out on its maiden voyage.

  Back at Gittins Manor, Violet rang for the maid to bring tea then asked her to find places for her little purchases, a bucket, a pot, and a few clothes pegs. Kath listened to Violet gently humming a little tune and her heart swelled.

  ‘So how goes married life?’ Kath asked tentatively.

  ‘Oh Mum,’ she said, ‘it’s only been a few days!’

  ‘I know,’ Kath said, ‘I was only asking.’

  ‘So far so good,’ Violet said as they exchanged smiles. ‘Mum, you have to come and see my bedroom!’ Getting up, Violet didn’t see her mother tense. ‘It’s so lovely.’ Casting a quick glance behind her to make sure her mother was following her out of the room, she went on, ‘Spencer gave me my own bedroom.’

  ‘I’m glad, sweetheart,’ Kath said, ‘so you’re happy then?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ Violet gushed. ‘But…’

  Dread filled her as Kath watched her daughter as they walked up the staircase to her bedroom. The room was beautifully decorated with drapes around the large feather bed, a cheval mirror stood in one corner and a matching jug and bowl set adorned the mahogany dresser. Kath gasped at the beauty of it, but she felt something was wrong. Had he hurt her? Had he gone back on his word to her? Kath waited, feeling impatient.

  ‘Mum, I need to ask you something but…’

  Impatience got the better of her and Kath snapped, ‘Well spit it out, wench, the answer will come quicker when I hear the question!’

  Sitting together on the end of the bed, Violet said nervously, ‘Well I need to know how to please Spencer… you know… in bed… when the time comes.’ She tapped the eiderdown as she spoke. The blush reached Violet’s hair as she hung her head. All of a fluster now she tried to hide her embarrassment.

  ‘Oh Violet, daughter of mine, the best advice I can give you is to be yourself. Don’t ever change for anyone. And, when the time comes that you and Spencer share the same bed… relax. Explain you’ll need time and patience and, above all, tenderness.’

  Hugging her mother, Violet said, ‘Thanks Mum, you always know the answer.’

  *

  In the early evening, Kath passed the few houses in Hobbins Street on her way to see Annie Green. Now she needed someone to talk to. Telling Annie of her afternoon with Violet at the canal then their conversation at Gittins Manor, Annie smiled, saying, ‘You’ll be a grandma before too long, just you mark my words.’

  Laughing together, Kath saw Annie’s eyes cloud over wistfully.

  ‘Funny,’ said Annie suddenly, ‘how young Primrose Woolley doesn’t seem to be able to have kids either, you know – the same as me.’

  Kath’s heart tightened as she watched the emotions play on Annie’s face.

  ‘We never did
know if it was me or Charlie who was at fault, but either way, it was never meant to be.’

  ‘Annie, I never thought much about Primrose not conceiving. I know that’s why Frank beats her – he wants an heir to his fortune.’

  Suddenly the irony struck them both and they laughed until their sides ached, then Annie spoke again. ‘Young Primrose is too thin to carry full term, it would kill her or the baby. She’s far too undernourished, I bet she doesn’t even get her monthlies.’

  Kath nodded agreement, and they drank their tea in silence each with their own thoughts for company.

  *

  The following Sunday, Spencer sent the carriage to collect Kath, she had been invited to lunch and Joshua Gittins was also to be there.

  Violet rushed out to meet her mother when she arrived and Spencer hugged his mother-in-law with genuine joy.

  Over their Sunday dinner, the four of them chatted and before long the conversation turned to Frank Woolley and his bad luck. Violet had spent little time with her father-in-law since the marriage; he had been busy with work and lived across town from them so there had been little opportunity to socialise.

  ‘What do you make of it all, Kath?’ Joshua asked. His warm nature endeared him to Kath but she eyed him suspiciously across the table.

  ‘Oh Joshua, I don’t know anything about making nails or business come to that.’

  Sipping his wine, he eyed her across the table. ‘I think you have a savvy head on those pretty shoulders of yours.’

  Was Joshua Gittins flirting with her, or was he fishing in her pool?

  ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Kath replied, desperately wanting to get off the subject of the nails.

  ‘Come on, let’s take a walk in the gardens, and leave the kids to their own devices for a while.’

  Giving Violet a little wink and smile, he rose from the table and, taking Kath’s elbow, they walked out onto the path surrounding the extensive lawns. The weather held a chill now and she shivered.