The Chainmakers

by Helen Spring

  Anna blushed. 'If that is truly the case, I don't think they have a very Christian outlook...'

  Robert let out a peal of laughter. 'Pious too! Oh Anna, you're priceless, really you are, even if a bit po-faced.' He studied her seriously and then resumed his brushwork before he added teasingly 'Is that what they teach you in Chapel?'

  Anna blushed. 'I have certainly been taught that vanity is a sin,' she responded hotly. 'There are many things more important than looks...'

  'Of course there are.' Robert came across to her and smiled his warm, confidential smile, and Anna felt her heart melt. He turned her face slightly and said quietly, 'Hold it just there, I'm almost finished.' He went back to his easel and continued, 'There are many things more important than looks I agree, but beauty?... ah! that's a different matter. I speak as an artist, and to me beauty is the most important thing in the world.'

  'And you are an expert on the matter of course?' Anna could not help but reply.

  'Yes indeed I am, and before you belittle my expertise let me ask you a question. Do you think Anna, that everyone has such knowledge? Can every Tom, Dick or Harry recognise true beauty when he sees it?'

  'Most people know what they find attractive,' Anna said. 'It is surely in the eye of the beholder...'

  'What they find attractive, yes, but that is not true beauty. One can find many things attractive, from a pretty girl to a good dinner... or the cut of a jacket.' Robert waved his brush as if to emphasise his point. 'The appreciation of beauty has to be worked at, studied and explored. Beauty is a rare thing, and sometimes found in strange places by those who understand what they seek... but it is not for everyone to pick up, like a pebble on a beach.'

  'I think you talk of a beauty I don't understand.'

  'Perhaps. And yet... with time... I believe you might. Beauty can be found in an aged face, or a workman's face which shows character, just as much as in one which is young... and beauty is in wild and dangerous things, just as much as in those which are good and pure...' He broke off as he concentrated hard on a few touches of his brush. 'There... if I do any more I shall ruin it. You can come and look if you like.'

  Anna went over to the easel, grateful for movement. She was filled with awe at the masterly way in which her likeness had been captured. She still had no idea why Robert had wanted to paint her in her black alpaca, against the background of the chainshop, especially as she now had an evening gown, a plain grey dress and a flowered dimity. But Robert had been adamant, and Anna was mortified to see the accuracy of his depiction, even to the brown rust stain on her skirt, and the darn near the hem which she had hoped did not show. Her gaze travelled back to the face, it was her face certainly, and she supposed it had a certain beauty, even if there were wisps of hair trailing to her collar. It was the eyes that gave the portrait life. They held a look... a look of... what? She looked deep into her own painted eyes and felt a slight thrill of recognition. The eyes held a challenge, almost an invitation...

  'What do you think?' Robert's voice was soft, as if he understood her thoughts.

  'It is... very like.' Anna said lamely.

  'Well, it's finished as far as you are concerned,' Robert said, cleaning his brush. 'I have to put in some more background, and as I told you I'll need to do some sketches at the chainshop. I'll come over on Tuesday, and as a thank you for all your patience, when you finish work I'll take you to Dudley Castle for a late tea.' He grinned, 'A little treat for both of us, as we've worked so hard.'

  Anna was filled with a rush of happiness at the thought of spending more time with Robert, she had feared that after this weekend she would not see him again. 'It sounds wonderful,' she said. 'Thank you... Oh!' Her face fell.

  'What is it?'

  'It will be dark...'

  'Yes, that's why I want to go then. I expect you have been before? In the daytime?'

  'Yes, I went once in summer, the view is grand from the top.'

  Robert laughed. 'Exactly. Your idea of beauty perhaps? Well I want you to see the view at night.'

  'But we shan't be able to see, and as for tea, I think the castle closes early in winter...'

  Robert laughed again, but it was an indulgent sound. 'What a goose you are! A guinea opens any door Anna, even Dudley Castle.'

  ~

  Saying goodbye to Florence was difficult. During the weeks she had been visiting High Cedars Anna had come to admire and respect the qualities of this extraordinary woman, and she knew she would miss her a great deal. Florence had taught her so much, had opened her eyes and made her look beyond the grimy confines of her life at Sandley Heath, and Anna hardly knew how to thank her.

  'It's not just the dresses and shoes, and everything,' she said, stumbling in her appreciation. 'But our talks... the way you explained things, took so much trouble with a complete stranger...'

  'A stranger? Never!' Florence rejoined, taking Anna's hand and leading her to stand in front of "The Chainmaker's Child," now back in its rightful place on the wall of the sitting room. 'Look Anna, look at yourself, dancing on the bellows at the forge, only ten years old. What makes you think you were ever a stranger here? I have lived with you in my house for over eight years, and when my husband was alive he often used to refer to you as his little girl. He loved this picture, thought it was the best thing he had ever done, which is why he would never sell it. So you see Anna, you have been part of this family for a long time, I have seen you every day, and in an odd way I felt I knew you.' Her voice softened as she observed the tears in Anna's eyes. 'Come along,' she said kindly. They walked together to the door, where the trap was waiting to take Anna to the canal barge, the pony's breath condensing in the cold February air. Florence kissed Anna soundly on both cheeks, and tasted the salty tears which now ran unheeded down her face.

  'Don't feel sad, Anna,' she consoled. 'We shall keep in touch, you must write to me, I should like that. I shall always keep the picture, and so you will always be a part of my life.'

  Anna could not reply. She just nodded briefly and climbed up into the trap. The driver gathered up the reins and the pony began to walk on, and Anna wiped her eyes and turned to wave as the trap jolted away. She held the image of Florence until the last moment, waving until the trap rounded the bend in the drive, and Florence and High Cedars were lost to her for ever.

  ESCAPE

  'I'm not sure I approve of all this.' Anna's mother spoke querulously, and her hands shook as she passed Anna a small neat collar, newly starched.

  'All what mother? For goodness sake, I'm only going out to tea!' Anna carefully fastened the collar above the grey dress which had been a gift from Florence, and paraded herself for approval.

  'I must say it's a beautiful dress,' her mother admitted. 'Fits perfectly, and so well made... but Anna,' she hesitated and then plunged in, 'Are you sure you have told me the truth? I mean the whole truth?'

  'What about?' Anna was surprised and concerned. She had no wish to be a worry to her mother. She knelt down and gently rubbed her mother's left arm, trying to ease the stiffness which she had complained of since a nasty turn the day before.

  'Is that better? Now ... what's worrying you? I thought you would be pleased to see me going out decently dressed for once.'

  'Of course I am, but it seems so odd. You say Mrs Nicholson... Florence... bought the dresses and shoes for you, but are you sure Mr. Nicholson did not pay for them?'

  Anna was aghast. 'Mother, of course not! Surely you know I would not have accepted them from him? His mother is a kind person that's all. I told you she wanted me to dine with the family, and you must admit I didn't have the kind of clothes that are expected...'

  'Anna... Mr. Nicholson is not... has not...?'

  Anna blushed. 'Mother, Mr. Nicholson is a perfect gentleman.'

  'That's what I mean. Why would a gentleman like him take a chainmaker out to tea? I know you are a good girl Anna, but you are very young, and men can be so...so...'

  'I know how men can be Mother,' Anna answere
d sharply, 'I've seen enough of Dad.'

  The moment it was out Anna regretted her words. She saw the hurt cross her mother's face.

  'Your father was not always like he is now, Anna,' she said quietly. 'He...'

  'I know Mom, I know...' Anna kissed her mother. 'I'm sorry, but I have to hurry... Robert is waiting in the carriage.'

  She picked up her new shawl, and felt some annoyance as her mother continued, 'I'm only trying to point out to you what people will say.'

  'Well, what will they say?'

  'What do you think? A gentleman in a grand carriage waiting in the street, and you going off with him dressed in finery everyone knows you couldn't have bought. And they know you ' ve been going to his home and staying there every Saturday for the last four months... What do you expect them to think?'

  Anna felt her anger mounting. 'They can think what they like. If their minds are so filthy they will think the worst no matter what I do.' She flung on her shawl. 'After tonight I shall not see Robert or his mother again. This tea is a little treat for me as a goodbye present. You had to spoil it for me didn't you?'

  'Anna, I only want...'

  'I shan't be late.' Anna said crisply, and hurried away.

  ~

  The gates of Dudley Castle were closed when the carriage drew up outside. Robert succeeded in attracting attention by rattling at the gate with his cane, and an old man appeared. Seeming not to mind the interruption, he opened the gates and led them up the thickly wooded hill to his small cottage, constructed from one of the Castle outbuildings. Anna remembered visiting the cottage years before with Will. They had brought bread and jam with them for a picnic, together with a Jolly Boy, and Anna had paid a halfpenny at the cottage for hot water. Visitors with more to spend were served teas outside the cottage in summer, but on this chilly late February evening they were shown into the small parlour, where a good fire was blazing merrily in the shining blackleaded grate. Robert's driver carried in a wicker hamper and put it down on the small round table. As he departed, an elderly woman, presumably the old man's wife, brought in two candles.

  Anna looked round at the neat armchairs, the kettle singing on the hob, and felt completely at home.

  'You have a cosy place here,' she remarked.

  'Arr, true enough,' the woman agreed in a thick dialect. 'God's good, an' the devil ay altogether ta bad, as they say.'

  Robert stifled a giggle. 'I haven't brought a teapot,' he said, 'But I believe we have everything else.'

  The woman smiled, and returned quickly with teapot, which she handed to Anna.

  'No, this is my duty,' Robert cried happily, taking the teapot from her. 'You sit by the fire Anna, your job is to toast the muffins.'

  Carefully he unpacked the hamper, handing Anna a plate of split muffins and a toasting fork.

  Anna speared half a muffin and held it out to the fire. She watched as Robert carefully spooned tea into the teapot. He looked perplexed. 'I have no idea as to quantity...'

  ‘That's plenty,' Anna laughed. 'But you should have warmed the pot first.'

  'Oh!' Robert looked bewildered.

  'Don't worry, just pour the water on.' Anna turned the muffin over and began to toast the other side. 'We should have brought a Jolly Boy,' she said.

  'What on earth is a Jolly Boy?' Robert made the tea and looked pleased with himself. His face was a picture as Anna explained how to make a Jolly Boy.

  'What an extraordinarily good idea,' he said. 'I shall remember it when I next go on a picnic.'

  'I doubt if you would care for it,' Anna laughed. 'You have to be used to the taste of condensed milk.'

  'Even so. It probably would not go off in hot weather.' He took the muffin Anna held out to him and began to butter it thickly. 'It was fascinating for me today, at the chainshop. Although I was working I could watch all that went on. I enjoyed it.'

  'I doubt you would enjoy it if you made chain every day for a living,' Anna murmured.

  'I'm well aware of that. I should think it is a very uncomfortable life.' He handed Anna the buttered muffin and took another from the end of the toasting fork for himself.

  'It's hardly my fault Anna, that I was born who I am,' he said wryly. 'I can't help it if I'm more fortunate than others.'

  'Of course not, I know that. But you can't really understand by just visiting for a day. It isn't fascinating at all, it's hard, very hard indeed. It's hot, poorly paid and very boring once you have the skill. The same thing every day, hour after hour...'

  'But that is obvious, one only has to watch... God knows how I would cope if I had to do it. Before I arrived this morning I walked round some of the other chainshops, I was amazed how many there were. Some quite big like yours, and then little ones at the back of the houses, with just one man or woman working. I watched some of the men at work. Those huge links...'

  'For the big anchor chains, most of them. My Dad makes those, four inch.' Anna interposed, with a hint of pride.

  'Yes, such heavy work... even the medium sizes, where they work that hammer thing with their foot...'

  'The Oliver. It's called an Oliver.'

  'You can probably tell me why every so often they throw water at the fire... I should have thought it would put it out.'

  'They don't throw it at the fire, they throw it at the plate, that big hood over the fire, to cool it down.'

  'Why do they have to cool it down?'

  'The plate is there to protect the man from the fire. It gets very hot, and if it wasn't cooled by flinging water at it occasionally it would take the skin off his face and arms.'

  'Oh,' Robert looked thoughtful. 'Another thing I noticed. Some of the chainshops still have those huge bellows, but they didn't have a child dancing on them like you used to do. A man told me theirs was worked by a pump.'

  Anna sighed. 'Robert, I never danced on the bellows, that is simply how your father saw it. I jumped on them, and because I was small and the bellows were hard to push down I had to jump hard, so it looked like dancing.' She leaned forward. 'Dancing is something you do for pleasure. What I did was work, very hard work indeed. I used to become very tired, so tired that when we stopped for the day I would just fall down exhausted and my father would carry me home...'

  Robert was silent. After a moment Anna continued, 'I didn't do it every day of course, but whenever I was not at school I had to work, and often for a few hours after school. You rarely see a child on the bellows now because it was stopped a few years ago. There was a fuss made about it, they called it child slavery.'

  Robert let out a long sigh. After wiping his mouth on his napkin he took a small fruit cake from the hamper and sliced it carefully. Offering a slice to Anna he said quietly, 'How crass you must think us, mother and I. We kept mentioning dancing on the bellows, and of course you remember it so differently. We must have made you very angry.'

  'No! Not angry, not at all. Your mother has been kinder to me than anyone I ever met. You didn't understand that's all, any more than I understood your life at High Cedars. We have had such different backgrounds.'

  Robert nodded briefly, and they ate appreciatively. The cook at High Cedars took great pride in her fruit cake. Robert poured another cup of tea, having been reminded by Anna to top up the pot, and eventually Anna announced she couldn't eat another thing.

  'Nor I,' said Robert, 'I'm as full as a gun!'

  They both laughed, and the slight tension which had arisen with the talk of their background evaporated instantly. Robert took her hand.

  'Come on young lady, time to walk off your tea.' He looked at Anna's shawl. 'Don't you have a coat?'

  'No, but this is very warm.' Anna put on the shawl and followed Robert out to the kitchen, where he thanked the old couple for their hospitality and asked for lanterns, explaining they were going to climb to the top of the hill.

  The old man bustled about, sucking at his wispy moustache, and checking the oil in the lanterns. His wife exhorted them to make sure they kept to the path. 'There b'aint
no danger,' she assured Robert, 'So long as you 'm on the trail. No climbin' round the ruins though, not i' the dark.'

  Robert assured her they would try no such foolhardy thing, and gave the old man some coins. He seemed delighted, and escorted them to the start of the climb.

  'If we're not back in two hours send out a search party!' Robert joked as they set out, holding the lanterns aloft. The climb was not difficult, but after a while Anna became short of breath and stopped for a moment.

  'You ate too much cake,' Robert accused. In the dim glow of the lantern Anna could see his eyes twinkling.

  'Probably,' she answered. She could hardly tell him that in his honour she was wearing a new pair of stays, the first she had ever had. They were very uncomfortable, she should not have laced them so tightly.

  'I can't imagine why we are doing this,' she grumbled, as they started to climb again. 'It's too dark to see anything...'

  A few minutes later Robert turned around and held out his hand. 'Hold on to me for the last bit, it's rather steep. Now you will see why I brought you up here.'

  Anna struggled up the last few yards, and as she emerged to a flat viewing area she caught her breath in astonishment. Before them the whole vast blackness was lit like a huge firework display from the crimson lights of hundreds of forges and furnaces which roared and twinkled below like so many great red mouths, lipped with white at the edges. Above them the clouds hung heavy and purple, lightened with crimson and gold by the fires which spanned almost twenty miles.

  'There Anna,' Robert breathed, 'The Black Country's own Aurora Borealis!'

  Anna was transfixed, her eyes roamed the horizon, trying to make sense of it.

  'No,' she said slowly. 'The Heavens have nothing to do with this, this is made by man. It seems to me like a great battlefield, with all the armies firing huge guns at each other...'

  'You are not the first to have seen it that way,' Robert conceded. 'Look Anna, over to the left there, that's Wolverhampton, and then Coseley, Wednesbury and Bilston. There on the right you have Dudley, Albion, Oldbury and Smethwick, they are in the battle too, and in the distance you can even see Walsall. A great deal of your battlefield is owned by the Earl of Dudley, the land and the mines underneath it, and of course he has the rents from the factories and foundries and chainshops. To think of owning so much...'