The Chainmakers

by Helen Spring

  She blushed, as Robert laughed out loud and told her she was wonderful, a breath of fresh air. Florence too was laughing, and then said kindly,

  'Don't worry Anna, we are not laughing at you, but with you. Robert is quite right, it has been a tonic to have you here this weekend, and I'm so glad you will be coming regularly. Now let me give you a little advice for when we have guests, because then there will be more courses than we have had tonight.'

  'More?' Anna was astounded.

  'Yes, six at least and sometimes more. But my dear...' she leaned forward confidentially, 'It is not strictly necessary to eat every last scrap!'

  'Oh!' Anna blushed. 'I see.' She did indeed. She had noticed Florence Nicholson leave half her food on her plate and had thought it a criminal waste, but deduced she was perhaps not feeling too well.

  'Just eat a little of everything to be polite, and a little more of anything you particularly like,' Florence explained. 'Then you won't be too full.'

  'And when I come here, I'll eat with you and your guests on Saturdays?' Anna asked nervously.

  'Of course.'

  'But I'm not sure... I don't know...'

  'My dear...' Florence put a hand over Anna's and smiled at her. 'Your manners are a credit to you and your mother, you have nothing to be nervous about. I shall always seat you where you can watch me. Your behaviour is far superior to that of some of the young ladies Robert sees fit to invite.' She said this in a tone of admonition, but Robert only laughed again and said Anna would be a tonic in any company.

  Anna wriggled slightly in her seat as she remembered the meal. Perhaps she shouldn't tell the girls too much about it, they might think she was showing off, especially if she told them about being put in what Florence called the second guest room, instead of the servants quarters. If that was the second guest room, Anna mused, heaven alone knows what the first must be like. So big, and a lovely fire lit, and a thick rug and an easy chair and pretty curtains, which the maid had come in to draw as Anna was getting ready for dinner. That had simply entailed putting on her Sunday chapel skirt and blouse, which was all she possessed apart from the black alpaca she wore to work, covered by a big "baggin" apron made from boiled sugar bags. Anna smiled gently to herself as she remembered how the maid had brought hot water for her to wash in the big blue and white china bowl on the washstand, and the piece of soap that smelled of violets. And then, after that wonderful meal, when she had snuggled down into the crisp white lavender scented sheets, she had given her body over to the luxurious softness of the big bed, a softness she had never realised existed, accustomed as she was to the hard straw palliase which had been handed down to her when Will left home.

  The only thing that hadn't been right was her clothes. She had arrived in her black alpaca intending to change into her best skirt and blouse for the first sitting, but Robert would have none of it, and was most annoyed when he found she had not brought her "baggin" apron.

  'Don't you understand Anna?' he had said crossly, pacing the big studio which ran across the back of the house. 'I want to paint you as you are, as a chainmaker... that's the whole point of the exercise, and I need you in your working clothes. You've changed your hair too,' he added accusingly.

  'I just washed and curled it last night, so it would look nice for the sitting...' Anna explained, unable to understand his attitude. 'I just thought...'

  'Well don't think!' Robert said firmly. 'Remember I want to paint you as a chainmaker and I want your hair just as usual, done up but some bits straggling down... how it was when I saw you at the chainshop. Although,' he added, his good humour quickly returning,'I don't object to your washing your face, or your hair either for that matter.' He reached across and took a thick lock of her hair in his hand, 'Yes,' he murmured to himself, 'Washing it will help the light... it's a lovely colour.'

  He smiled, and Anna trembled slightly as she tried to recover from the shock of his hand on her hair. No man had ever touched her hair like that, stroked it and caressed it, not even Clancy Sullivan, and they had been walking out these eight months. Robert seemed oblivious to her unease, and after saying he supposed he could do the domestic picture first, went out of the room. When he returned he sat her down on a chair, gave her a traycloth and a needle and thread and told her she was supposed to be sewing.

  Now Anna gazed doubtfully at the traycloth, wondering if Robert would mind if she brought some real sewing with her. It seemed such a waste of time to sit doing nothing even though she was being paid for it, and she could have turned a couple of her Dad's collars in the time she'd been sitting here...

  The door opened and Florence came in, saying 'Sorry to interrupt but I wanted a word with Anna before she goes...'

  'I'm finished,' said Robert, laying down his brush, 'At least for today.'

  'Can I see?' Anna hopped down from the chair and hurried over to the easel. 'Oh!'

  Her face mirrored the disappointment in her voice. There seemed little change from the rough composition of lines and shapes from the day before, and certainly nothing which even began to resemble herself.

  'It's ...er...' She stopped, nonplussed, and Robert laughed out loud.

  'It's a very good start Anna' he said, still laughing. 'I'm really pleased.'

  'Yes,' Florence agreed, 'I can see the perspective is going to be right... you see Anna, it won't begin to be a real likeness for some while yet.'

  'Oh I see,' Anna said, privately thinking it seemed an awful amount of time and expense just to have a picture on the wall. With all their money they could easily have gone into Dudley and bought one.

  'Anyway,' Florence said firmly, 'Anna needs a cup of tea before she leaves, come along now my dear...'

  She hurried out of the room, and Anna followed, but as she reached the door Robert said 'Just a second.'

  He fished in his pocket and found four half crowns. 'Ten shillings, as arranged, and here's another shilling for your boat fare. I'll see you again next Saturday.'

  Anna beamed. 'Thank you. Yes, I'll be here. Goodbye Mr. Nicholson... er... Robert.'

  She followed Florence down the wide staircase with a feeling of real excitement, the four half crowns and the shilling almost burning her hand. It had not seemed quite real until now, but already she was planning how she would spend the money.

  Florence led her to the elegant drawing room, where the maid had already brought in tea, and motioned Anna to a seat.

  'My dear, I hope you will not be offended at what I am going to suggest,' she said carefully.

  'Well... I don't know until I hear it.'

  Florence laughed. 'Oh Anna, you are such a treat, don't ever change, will you?'

  'I... I don't really know what you mean...'

  'Lots of young women these days are so false, so... so devious and artful. You say just what you think, and I find that very refreshing. Anyway,' Florence continued as she handed Anna her tea, 'I wanted to tell you about next week. We are having a dinner party on Saturday evening, not many, ten or twelve at most, but I thought you might be more comfortable, er... feel more at ease, if you had something nice to wear.'

  'Oh. I have my Sunday skirt and blouse... you saw them last night.'

  'Yes, and they are very nice, but for a dinner party you need something a little more dressy. Nothing too frivolous, but...'

  'I'm afraid I don't have anything like that...' Anna interrupted, 'But I shall be very happy to have my dinner in the kitchen...'

  'Absolutely not!' Florence responded quickly, 'That is not what I meant at all. I wondered if you would mind if I bought you a dress?'

  Receiving no response from Anna she continued quickly 'If you leave your measurements with me I can get one made up for next weekend, my dressmaker is very good... that is if you will trust yourself to my taste?'

  Anna still did not reply. She was completely overcome. A dress... and a grand one at that! She could never wear it at home of course, but it would be so good to have a nice dress here, so she would not let Robert and
his mother down... She swallowed and then stammered, 'Oh! You are so kind... I don't know what to say...'

  'Oh good! Then it's settled. I shall have great fun choosing for you!' Florence took a sip from her teacup and confided, 'I always wanted a daughter, I should have so enjoyed dressing her up! This will give me a chance to indulge myself.'

  'Is Robert your only child then?' Anna asked. As soon as she had said it she wondered if the question was impolite, but Florence smiled and said cheerfully, 'Oh no, I have another son, my eldest, Andrew, named after his father. You will meet him next Saturday, he and his wife will be coming to dinner. He looks after the business, he's very good at it,' she added.

  Anna smiled. 'Robert told me he is not good at business,' she said carefully, 'He's going to be an artist isn't he, a real one?'

  Florence grimaced. 'We must hope so. He could probably be good at business if he was the slightest bit interested, but he isn't, so we must hope he has talent in other directions.'

  She rose and pulled the bell cord. 'I will get Mary to bring in a tape measure, we must make sure you don't miss the barge.'

  Ten minutes later, having taken a note of Anna's measurements, Florence escorted her to the front door, where the groom awaited with the trap.

  'Goodbye Anna,' she smiled. 'Climb aboard now, we'll see you next week.'

  'Thank you Florence, thank you so much, for everything.'

  'Oh... Anna,' Florence called as the trap began to move away, 'Just to please Robert, don't forget your "baggin" apron!'

  ~

  It was just after five o’clock when Anna alighted from the barge to find Clancy waiting for her.

  ‘How did you know I’d be here?’ she asked, delighted to see him.

  ‘Just a guess,’ he said laconically, as they began to walk along the towpath. ‘Your Mam and Dad said you might be coming back on the boat. I’ll not be wanting you walking home alone.’

  Anna settled happily into step alongside him. She loved to hear Clancy talk. Although he had lived in Sandley Heath since he was ten years old, he still had a slight Irish brogue which she found attractive.

  ‘Oh, Clancy, I’ve had such a time you’ll never believe.’

  Clancy smiled at her, and his blue Irish eyes twinkled.

  ‘I thought you might. You’d best tell me all about it then.’

  They entered the dark lane which led up to the main road, where the soot blackened tree branches straggled weakly against the leaden sky, and Anna shivered. Clancy slipped his arm around her waist, and they strolled together deep in conversation, Anna extolling the delights of life at High Cedars. Just before they reached the road, Clancy pulled her to him and planted a light kiss on her lips.

  ‘I’m so glad,’ he said, ‘So glad you’ve enjoyed it. I was thinking of you, so I was.’

  ~

  Anna remembered Clancy's words when she went to bed that night, earlier than usual because as it was Sunday her mother refused to allow her to do the ironing, and she wanted time alone to think about everything that had happened. Clancy was such a dear, she thought. So reliable and kind, you knew where you were with Clancy. In spite of the fact that he and his mother lived in that miserable hovel in Deakin Street, with only one tiny room downstairs and loft above, reached by a wooden ladder, there were not two more kindly people in existence. Things had been hard for Mrs. Sullivan since she was widowed when Clancy was twelve years old, but somehow or other she had managed to bring up her son as a decent and hardworking lad, and Anna knew his interest in her was serious.

  She let her mind wander again over the events of the weekend, thinking of the dress Florence intended to have made for her, and wondering what colour it would be. This was the one thing she had not confided to anyone at home, not even Clancy. It would seem like showing off, she felt. Nevertheless she let her mind dwell on the dress, anticipating the style and the width of the skirt, would it have a low neck and the new sleeves?

  Just before she fell asleep a last thought crossed her mind. Next week there would be another ten shillings.

  TWO WORLDS

  The "baggin" apron, as it happened, was not needed for several weeks. Robert decided to complete the domestic scene of Anna seated over her sewing, the traycloth now having been replaced by a flannelette shirt which Anna was making for her Dad. When she had asked with some diffidence if she might bring her sewing with her Robert had laughed and said of course she must, adding with surprise, 'You didn't really think I was going to paint you sewing a traycloth did you?'

  'I... I didn't know...'

  'Anna, try to understand. Do you ever sit and embroider a traycloth like that at home?'

  'No. We don't have trays at home.'

  'Precisely. I have told you before, I want to paint you as are, I only gave you the traycloth to hold so I could get position of the arms right.'

  'Oh, I see.'

  Every week when Anna arrived at High Cedars she found her portrait a little more alive, a little more like herself. It was fascinating to watch the progress. During the week, while she worked at the forge, Robert would continue to paint from memory, but by the time Saturday came he was usually frustrated and angry at his efforts, only beginning to calm down when he had Anna seated before him, and could check what he had done. The Saturday afternoon session was therefore very concentrated, and Robert would rarely speak, apart from an occasional murmur of 'of course!' 'ah yes!' or 'that's better!' When he was so engrossed, Anna would often steal a glance at him, committing to memory the line of his head, the way his smooth fair hair was clipped straight across his neck, and how a piece at the front sometimes fell across his eyes, to be flipped aside with a quick shake of the head. These memories Anna would resurrect during the following week, as she hammered at the red hot iron rods, and as the weeks went by the impressions became more insistent, until she saw Robert shake his head in the flying sparks, saw Robert's eyes in the glowing coals, and heard Robert's voice in the very air she breathed, cutting through the tumultuous din of the chainshop. She knew it was a useless fixation and was a little ashamed of it, particularly when she thought of Clancy. When these feelings intruded she told herself there was no harm in dreaming, as long as it hurt no-one. It was like being in love with a hero in a story, wonderful to feel, but having nothing to do with real life.

  Anna now knew several of the dinner guests who had been invited to High Cedars, and had met Robert's elder brother Andrew, a tall, elegant man with long bony fingers and a kind smile. He talked to her at length about the family business, and proved to have inherited all the sensitivity and kindness of his mother, explaining his views and encouraging her interest, without a hint of patronage. Robert Nicholson and his family, their lovely home and gardens, their friends and dinner parties, were so far removed from the drudgery of Sandley Heath that it seemed to Anna that she led two lives. In one, she wore a grand dress, spoke carefully, and drank wine from a crystal glass in the company of people who laughed a lot, and were witty and interesting. In her other life she emptied the chamber pots before she went to work, pushed her father up the narrow stairs to bed when he was drunk, and helped her mother in and out of the tin bath which was set in front of the fire every Friday night. At work she was hot, dirty and exhausted most of the time, but as soon as she left the chainshop she was freezing cold in the raw December air which penetrated her thin shawl. It was a world of constant noise and blistered hands, as she hammered as if to save her life, trying to shut out the screeching of Ma Higgins, who exhorted her to 'Gerron wi' it, Miss Toffeenose, no time fer yer fancy notions 'ere.'

  The only comfort which had crept into this second life of Anna's was provided by the extra money. She now bought an extra booster each day, and quite often there was enough of the big loaf left to be made into a delicious bread pudding, which her mother cooked in the oven at the side of the fire. The cold bread pudding was cut into thick slabs to be taken to work by herself and her Dad. She had also been able to buy a piece of beef every Friday since she had been
going to High Cedars, and knowing her parents were enjoying a good dinner on Saturdays and Sundays made her feel less guilty. For Anna certainly suffered from guilt, as being waited on hand and foot still did not seem quite right. The staff at High Cedars treated her as they would any other guest, although they knew her background. On one occasion when the upstairs maid brought hot water, Anna had attempted to engage her in conversation, saying that she was not used to being served. The maid had smiled quite openly and then had said simply, 'Then I should enjoy it, if I were you,' without any hint of rancour.

  Although she endeavoured to enjoy it, Anna couldn't help but feel it was unfair for some to have so much and others so little. It was not her own situation which weighed on her mind, but that of several of her neighbours who lived in the most abject poverty. She often reflected on these contrasts as she sat huddled in a corner of the canal barge, as it made its slow progress back to Sandley Heath on Sunday afternoon. She was not envious by nature, and told herself repeatedly that everyone couldn't be bosses, but there was one aspect of life at High Cedars which she did envy, and it had nothing to do with material possessions.

  Everyone seemed to know so much, and about so many different things. Anna's mother had always been proud that her daughter was intelligent, and had done so well at school. Despite George Gibson's protests that 'the wench should be bringin' in,' she had insisted that Anna stay at school until she completed Standard seven, and had been proud to watch her daughter ascend the platform to receive her book prize at the end of term. Largely because of her mother's influence, Anna had been accustomed to think of herself as having had a better education than her colleagues, but at High Cedars she was out of her depth. She would listen avidly to the conversation around the dinner table, being persuaded by first one argument and then another, until she hardly knew what she thought.