A Woman's Fortune

by Josephine Cox

‘I wouldn’t, lad. He’s in the back, but with you being Frederick’s man and all, I don’t want you getting caught up in something you can do nowt about. I’ve noticed you’ve not been round here of an evening, and I don’t suppose you came by today to see Michael, did you?’

  ‘I had expected him to be over the road.’ Jack was keeping his voice down now. ‘I came by with a little something for you that Jeanie found in a junk shop. She and Frederick thought it’d be useful so I’ve brought it round in the van.’

  ‘Well, bring it in, lad,’ Sue said, looking at Evie in excitement.

  Jack disappeared while Monty came over to be petted by Evie. Jack reappeared a couple of minutes later with …

  ‘Good grief, Jack. It’s a dressmaker’s dummy.’

  ‘It certainly is,’ said Jack, carrying the figure in and placing it on its castors in front of the window. ‘What do you think? Jeanie was a bit anxious you wouldn’t want it when she’d bought it, but Frederick said in that case you are to send it back with me and he can sell it on.’

  ‘Oh, no, it’s perfect!’ Evie gasped. ‘Exactly what we need. Thank you for bringing it, and please thank Mum and Frederick for thinking of us, won’t you?’ She felt sad that her mum hadn’t come around but was pleased she’d thought of them.

  ‘Of course, Evie.’

  ‘Thank you, Jack,’ Sue joined in. ‘I’ve never had one of these before. I never thought I would have either,’ she smiled.

  With a cheery wave, Jack was gone, his loyal dog following at his heels.

  Evie went over to inspect the dummy. A medium size, it was covered in a fawn-coloured calico.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ Evie said, and disappeared upstairs, returning shortly with the tailored suit. ‘If we dress the dummy it can show off the clothes we’ve made – when it’s not being used, that is.’

  Sue watched as Evie did just that, her young fingers working quickly and confidently.

  ‘Looks lovely. If only we had some folk in to see it.’

  ‘Grandma, it’s only a matter of time, I know it. In the meantime I’m going to get this blouse made and then the dummy can wear that, too!’

  ‘We’ll have to visit your mother to thank her.’

  ‘Will you tell her about Dad?’ asked Evie.

  ‘I suppose we’d better, love,’ she replied sadly.

  It was Easter at the end of the week, and time hadn’t improved Michael’s temper. Evie guessed the news would be all around the village now, and her dad said he’d been asking around, but he always seemed to end up in the pub.

  Michael had just been to a farm a couple of miles outside the village where he’d heard they needed a cow man, but when he told Evie and Sue about the muck and the smell, even he had to join in their laughter at the thought of him working with a herd of cows.

  ‘Smell was terrible,’ he said.

  ‘Well, of course it was, Dad,’ said Evie. ‘We may live in the country now but we’re townies. I don’t think farm work is for you, but I suppose you needed to go to find that out. I heard Miss Richards wants some help digging her garden – maybe you could help her?’

  ‘Oh, that Miss Richards is a good sort,’ said Michael, ‘but I’m not sure I want to do any more digging.’

  ‘You don’t have much choice,’ Sue said, firmly, turning Michael back out through the door. ‘Don’t throw away her kindness.’

  That night, as she lay in bed, Evie worried greatly. Now her brothers had been gone so long, Sue had moved into what had been the boys’ room so Evie had a bedroom to herself. She could hear Sue’s distant snoring and she got up and went to the window, which looked onto the backyard. The sky was black and cloudless, and she shivered. Evie couldn’t help thinking of that cold dark evening when she and Peter had gone to find Robert, and tears filled her eyes. She would never get over it, but was starting to learn to deal with it. But she missed her brothers and her mum so much. And all the folk on Shenty Street. Billy especially. With that thought, Evie climbed back into bed and cried herself to sleep.

  The sun had barely risen when Evie made her way downstairs, hoping to get a head start on work. But Sue was already up and a little unsteady on her feet as she stepped around the kitchen making some breakfast.

  ‘Just tired eyes, love, that’s all,’ she assured Evie. ‘I’ll be better after a good night’s sleep.’

  But Evie was not so sure. She’d noticed that Sue was still stitching by the light of the lamp, even during the sunnier days, and she’d had to ask Evie about colour-matching some thread several times. Evie had been too worried about the lack of work to think much about it, but now she vowed to keep a more careful watch on her beloved grandmother.

  As they worked on their stitching, Evie kept a watchful eye on Sue. When Michael came in at the end of the afternoon, he declared he’d had a good day at Lavender Cottage. He looked happier than he had for months.

  ‘Margaret only wants me to help her do the boring bits, she says,’ he smiled, ‘so there’s a bit of digging, pots to wash and the paths to sweep. She does all the clever stuff herself, but she did show me how to do some pruning. She says I made a decent job of it.’

  Evie was delighted to hear her father so cheerful. She couldn’t remember him expressing any interest in his work since they’d left Bolton – and possibly long before that.

  ‘I’m so glad, Dad,’ she said. ‘She and Letty are such good friends to us. We’re lucky to have them.’

  ‘We are, that,’ he agreed. ‘Now what’s for tea? I’ll peel some spuds, if you like, and you can make a start on it.’ Evie had never known her dad to help, but she’d been so busy with her sewing …

  ‘Oh, no, I forgot all about tea, Dad! I don’t know if we’ve got anything much. Now that you don’t get the vegetables given, we’ve sort of run out. I’m not used to buying them.’

  She was fearful for a moment that Michael’s good mood might evaporate, especially when he fell silent.

  Then he said, ‘Well, it’s lucky I’ve got some pennies from Margaret. Here, Evie, you nip over to Suttons’ before they close and choose summat for tonight.’ And he gave her some coins.

  Evie flew out without even her coat on to catch the general store, which was open every day, bank holidays included, arriving breathless.

  She looked at the goods on the shelves and in the fridge and chose a minced beef pie and some carrots and potatoes.

  Mrs Sutton put them in a paper carrier for her, enquiring, as she always did, about Sue.

  ‘She all right, your grandma?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Sutton. Her eyes get tired with all the stitching but then she’s getting old and I think mebbe she needs new glasses.’

  ‘It’s just, well, the last time she was in here she was finding it hard to see what she wanted on the shelves, though it was right in front of her and as plain as could be to me.’

  ‘Oh? She never said.’

  ‘I helped her out and she said she hadn’t spotted it, but then she went out right past Mrs Lambert without a word. Oh, don’t worry, Mrs Lambert said she thought Mrs Goodwin was preoccupied and hadn’t noticed her. She’s a nice woman and not one to take offence.’

  ‘No, of course not …’ Josie had been polite enough not to mention it, but Evie was puzzled and not a little worried. ‘Thank you for telling me, Mrs Sutton.’

  She went home with her pie and vegetables, full of new worries.

  After they’d eaten and washed up, Michael went to the Red Lion with some of the money Miss Richards had paid him and Evie made a pot of tea.

  ‘You all right, Grandma?’ she asked, sitting down beside Sue at the kitchen table.

  ‘Never better, lass. Why?’

  ‘Well, I’ve noticed you seem to be having trouble with your eyes. You’ve always got the lamp on, even during the day, and you’ve asked me a couple of times about matching a colour, and I think you’re finding it hard to see what’s right in front of you.’

  Sue was silent for a few moments. Then: ‘You�
��re right, love. It is getting difficult to see to sew, but mebbe I just need new glasses.’

  ‘Are your eyes hurting at all, Grandma?’

  ‘No, lass.’

  ‘No headaches – you would tell me, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘My head’s fine, Evie.’

  ‘Shall we go and see if we can get you some new glasses?’

  ‘I’m sure I’m all right, love. I’ll think about it.’

  The following day Evie took a few coins out of the tin Sue kept to cover small expenses and went over to Suttons’. As she approached, she could see a couple of women gossiping outside the shop. Hearing the name ‘Carter’, she stood quite still behind the pillar box to listen.

  ‘… heard their mother ran away and now lives with her fancy man in Redmond: only Frederick Bailey, if you please, he that owns their place and those two houses further down.’

  Evie didn’t want to listen but she couldn’t help it.

  ‘What, him that’s had all those wives! I don’t believe it. I thought I hadn’t seen her around but I’d no idea she’d done a runner. Always thought she was flighty. Far too pretty for her own good.’

  ‘Disgraceful, if you ask me. One child dead, one living with other people, and that scruffy-looking urchin now dolling herself up and going off on the bus to Redmond. What’s she doing there dressed like that, I’d like to know. It’s plain to me that the mother hasn’t kept her on the straight and narrow. Like mother, like daughter I should say.’

  Evie was torn between running away and giving the gossips the tongue-lashing she felt they deserved. But then she remembered she was now the new Evie. Grown-up and with the courage to face the gossips down with dignity, not run away crying like a child.

  She swallowed down her anger while taking note of what these two middle-aged women looked like. She knew neither of their names, but she vowed to find them out. Then she drew herself up to her full height to give herself courage. She stepped forward and they turned to see her. If she hadn’t been so cross she’d have laughed at the looks on their faces.

  ‘I think you’ll find,’ Evie said, ‘that people who know us – people who aren’t gossiping in the street like fishwives – are very pleased for my grandmother and me to be running a successful dressmaker’s, and if you think wearing a nice outfit is somehow immoral, I expect you’ll be making saints, the pair of you.’ Leaving the gossips open-mouthed and silent in astonishment, she went into the shop.

  ‘Hello, Evie, dear,’ said Mrs Sutton. ‘What can I get you?’

  Evie asked for her few essentials and Mrs Sutton helped her.

  ‘Who are those women I saw just now in front of the shop?’ asked Evie casually.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Bradshaw and Mrs Pinnock, I think you mean,’ offered Mrs Sutton.

  She decided not to tell Sue what she’d heard in case it upset her, but when she got back to Pendle’s Sue could sense Evie buzzing with energy at the encounter.

  ‘You all right, love?’ Sue asked. ‘Only you look like you’re bursting with summat to say.’

  ‘No, Gran, I’m fine,’ said Evie. ‘But I overheard one woman in the street saying I looked flighty, like my mum.’

  ‘Oh love, don’t you listen to them.’

  ‘You don’t think everyone is saying that, do you? I couldn’t bear it if folk or you thought badly of Mum and me when we’ve done nowt wrong.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Evie. No one who matters thinks badly of you at all.’

  But whatever her grandmother said, Evie felt sick that everyone was thinking bad of her family. She felt that no good would come of this.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ‘I’ve got a job!’ Michael beamed. ‘I start tomorrow. It’s a small place just outside Redmond, bit of a walk from the bus, though.’

  ‘What do you have to do?’ asked Evie. ‘Is it difficult?’

  ‘No, lass, I’m only sweeping up and fetching and carrying at a shoe factory, as far as I know. There’s no skill involved.’

  ‘Mebbe you’ll work your way up to do the shoemaking.’

  ‘I doubt it, our Evie. It looks to be quite a skilled job. Lots of stitching, but bigger machines than your grandma’s.’ He laughed loudly. ‘Still, it’s indoors, which has got to be better than Clackett’s.’

  ‘You won’t forget to let Margaret Richards know that you’ve got a job now and won’t be going there to help her in the garden, will you, Michael?’

  ‘Well, Sue, I was thinking, mebbe when the weather’s fine, at weekends, I could go down and see what she wants doing, if that suits her.’

  Evie and Sue looked at each other in astonishment. This was a turnaround!

  ‘Good idea, Dad,’ said Evie, when she’d managed to compose her face.

  Suddenly it was just Evie and Sue alone all day at Pendle’s and the atmosphere lifted slightly. They worked hard, hardly stopping to eat at lunchtime, and the workroom was abuzz with the sound of the treadle machine and the grind of scissors through fabric. Working on a client’s clothes by herself, Evie sensed for the first time in her life that things had turned a corner and she felt the flutterings of happiness.

  On the Thursday they took the bus to Redmond to look at the market, and to go to the doctor, as Sue’s eyes were getting worse. They shuffled into the consulting room, Sue looking as if she was going to her execution and leaving her coat with Evie, who sat nervously waiting.

  Time passed slowly and Evie started to worry: did it usually take this long? Eventually the door opened and a white-faced Sue emerged.

  ‘What is it, Grandma? Tell me,’ whispered Evie, her heart hammering.

  ‘It’s a degeneration thing, love –’ Sue pronounced the word carefully ‘– something to do with my age, and the rest is just bad luck. It’s only in one eye, though, and if I have new glasses then I’ll be able to see through the other one better than at present.’

  ‘Oh, Grandma! Oh, I’m sorry. Will it get worse? Will you … you won’t go blind, will you?’ The very idea filled her with horror.

  ‘No, love, but it might get worse.’

  Tears sprang to Evie’s eyes. Just when their lives were beginning to improve at last, too! It was so unfair! Better go and tell Jeanie the bad news while they were here.

  ‘Er, we wondered if we could beg a cup of tea, Mum, please? Grandma’s been to the doctor’s and it’s not good news.’

  Jeanie was at once all concern, and led Sue down the winding stairs to the kitchen.

  ‘There’s nothing to be done.’ Evie explained the sad situation. ‘Grandma’s only sixty-four and we’ve got such plans for the dressmaking. It’s starting to take off, and bring some money in. If Grandma can’t see to sew then I shall have to do all the work myself. I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage that. I’m worried about Grandma and I’m worried that it might all be too much for me …’ She sniffed and mopped her eyes with her hankie.

  Ada Taylor had a bit of a summer cold. She claimed she hadn’t really felt well since the snow in February and now, towards the end of June, she was petulant, moany and demanding.

  Billy had done his best to tend to her, and had even gone to the surgery to ask the doctor to come round. The doctor had done so, then declared Mrs Taylor had only a mild summer cold and a severe dose of self-pity, and he told Billy not to waste his time bothering him again unless she took a turn for the worse.

  Billy, too, was feeling the effects of his mother’s illness – not in his own health, but in the demands she made of him. For the last week she’d taken to staying in bed for much of the day, saying she was too ill to get up and do the housework. At first Billy tried to take on the chores himself when he got home from work, but then Ada fretted he might not have cleaned the kitchen well enough, or that the shopping he’d bought entirely at Mr Amsell’s on the way home from work was more expensive than taking a trip to the bigger shops in the nearest high street. There was no pleasing her.

  Billy had to leave her by herself all day to go to work, which meant making her
a sandwich before he left and leaving it under a plate, in case she really did feel too ill to make her own. At least there seemed to be nothing wrong with her appetite. The food was always gone by the time Billy arrived home, the plates left for him to wash.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not well enough to get up, Mum?’ he asked eventually. ‘If you can manage the afternoons you could do a bit of light housework then, something to occupy you, like, and it’d be to your own high standards.’

  ‘Billy, you wouldn’t ask it of me if you felt like I do,’ Ada moaned, coughing into her hankie.

  ‘Would you like me to ask someone to visit you, Mum?’ he suggested. He racked his brains. He thought of Marie Sullivan, but decided she had enough to do with her large family. Dora Marsh? But Mrs Marsh, though she had a heart of gold, was of the old school, like Sue Goodwin, and she’d probably tell Ada to buck up and get on with it. Geraldine Sullivan? Gerry was a cheerful sort, and he knew his mother liked her. He would understand, though, if she declined to visit. How he wished Evie was here; she’d look in, he was sure.

  Gerry reluctantly agreed, however, when he popped in to ask her as he passed the corner shop. ‘I’ll not be able to stop long, though, Billy,’ she said, primping the back of her new hairstyle. The queues for morning papers at Mr Amsell’s were even longer than before since Gerry Sullivan had changed her style.

  ‘Oh, Geraldine, love, is that you?’ called Ada in a shaky voice when she heard the key in the front door at lunchtime. Billy had given Gerry a spare key when she’d agreed to visit.

  ‘It is, Mrs Taylor.’ There was the sound of light footsteps on the stairs and Gerry put her head round Ada’s bedroom door. ‘Oh, you poor thing. Is it a bad cold you’ve got? Here, I’ve brought you some sweets from the shop.’ She handed Ada a box of fruit gums. ‘By, it’s hot in here, Mrs Taylor. Shall I open the window?’

  Before Ada could object the window was opened and fresher air entered the musty room.

  ‘How are you feeling today, Mrs Taylor?’

  ‘Not so good, Geraldine, love. I don’t know if I shall make it to Christmas at this rate.’