The Forget-Me-Not Girl

by Sheila Newberry

  After the service they walked in a triumphant procession to the farm they had been forced to leave all those years ago. Sarah and her family had cleaned and polished every corner of the house, and Jeremiah’s brothers had lit the fires to warm the rooms where they gathered. The long pine table was restored to the cosy kitchen and was laden with good food, prepared by Sarah and her daughter. Emma and Rebecca had contributed the wedding cake, which was dark and full of fruit, glistening with icing, on a silver plate.

  William stood at the head of the table to make his speech and raised his glass of Sarah’s elderberry wine. He cleared his throat, as the company looked at him expectantly.

  ‘Us hev come home, at last,’ he said, and then sat down abruptly, tears coursing down his seamed cheeks.

  Sarah stepped into the breach. ‘Us should toast the bride and groom – Jeremiah and Emily!’ She took a tiny sip from her glass, as although she had brewed the wine, she did not usually imbibe herself. Then she bent to console her husband. Her arms went around him and she cradled his head against her comfortable bosom. For a moment the guests were silent, then there was a chorus of ‘The Bride and Groom!’ and they remained standing to applaud the patriarch of the family, who had made their return home possible.

  ‘Just think, I was born here in this house,’ Emma whispered to young Frank.

  ‘Was it a hundred years ago?’ he whispered back.

  ‘Not quite, but I’m not telling you how old I am!’ she returned. The house was full of memories, of whispers. She remembered kneading the bread dough on this table, with Martha scolding her and her little sisters playing with the dog on the rag rug in front of the range. She thought of her mother, Sophia, and how she cared for them all, and taught them from the Bible. Her father, unlacing his heavy boots as he sat in his chair, after working from dawn to dusk each day, responsible for so many of them. Long gone but not forgotten. She thought too of the small Jerusha and the special bond between them.

  The words inside inside a condolence card came back to her:

  She is not lost! She lives, she lives for aye;

  To those rent hearts, this healing hope is given

  When from our sight, our loved ones pass away,

  All that seems lost to earth is found in heaven . . .

  Emma said to herself, ‘Amen, so let it be.’

  *

  A new phrase entered the English Language – Roller Coaster. The first one of these amazing, hair-raising fairground rides appeared in 1884, but the whole year was a roller coaster of events for Emma and her family. It began sadly with the loss of a loved sister, but there were happier times ahead.

  In August, Emma was with her sister Rebecca when she delivered a healthy baby boy. His parents named him Albert Gordon, his second name in honour of the general fighting in the Sudan, but this young man would always be known as Bertie, one of the ‘four bees’, as his family called them, which pleased his sisters, Beatrice, now ten, Bertha, eight, and little Bella who was three.

  For the first time, Rebecca and Richard were able to put a painful memory to rest, for their first baby had been a boy, born prematurely some months after their marriage, and had only survived a few weeks.

  Shortly after this, there was a new baby at Browick Bottom Farm, when Minnie was born to Jeremiah and Emily.

  ‘All is well,’ William said proudly. Although supposedly semi-retired, he worked as hard as ever, labouring on the farm, passing on his skills and knowledge to his son, and helping out his dear Sarah in her shop.

  ‘There will be another baby,’ Sarah predicted, ‘things always goo in threes.’ She was proved right when they heard from Keturah in Jarrow that she had added to her family too, with a son, Horace.

  THIRTY

  When Alice confided in her friend Miss Janet that she had ambitions to go to London and become an apprentice in a fashionable dressmaking establishment, Miss Janet went to see Emma and suggested how she might help.

  ‘An old school friend of mine and my sister now lives in Ealing and has set up a dressmaking school and academy alongside her business. Mrs Norton already has an exclusive clientele, including members of the aristocracy, and she mentioned in a recent letter to us that she was looking to take on another apprentice and would be placing an advertisement in The Lady. Why not get the magazine and see what you think? We would be delighted to put Alice’s name forward for her approval!’

  Immi, coming into the sitting room with a tray of tea and shortbread biscuits, overheard this and bit her lip. She and Alice clashed at times, but she was the elder sister and sometimes it seemed unfair that Alice had far more freedom than she herself, while she led a sheltered existence. She was eighteen years old, and yet she felt she was unlikely ever to leave home.

  Alice, of course, was overjoyed at the news, and promised her mother, ‘I’ll work hard and one day I’ll be famous, you’ll see!’

  Tom put her in her place. ‘You’ll need a bigger hat, Alice, to cover a swollen head, that’s certain, anyway!’

  However, they all knew they would miss lively Alice, even though she was aggravating at times.

  *

  Ealing, that green, leafy village had, since the advent of the railway, grown rapidly – and by now was referred to as ‘the Queen of the Suburbs’. The parks and horse chestnut trees, which lined the streets, the lovely old houses, including Ashton House, retained the rural atmosphere, but the High Street now extended to the Broadway, exclusive shops appeared along its length and the wide roads made access easy.

  Mrs Emmeline Norton had left an established business in Devon to further her ambitions, but her husband, an ostler, remained there with their two older children, while her youngest son accompanied his mother. He was now fifteen and an apprentice pianoforte finisher.

  Oxford Road was a short walk from the station and the Broadway and Emma and Alice arrived there on a crisp, autumn day, in good time for their appointment with Mrs Norton at 3 p.m. They surveyed the grand residence with awe and some trepidation from across the road. They noted that the house was five-storeys high with steps up to the massive front door, and more steps down to the railed basement area. ‘Like the Summers’ South Kensington house,’ Emma said, ‘except it’s much bigger.’

  Alice, her golden hair fanning out under her tam-o’-shanter, tugged her arm impatiently. ‘Mother, they can probably see us from one of the windows!’

  A nearby church clock chimed the hour, so Emma shifted her valise to her left hand and held on to Alice firmly as they crossed the road. She allowed Alice to lift the heavy knocker on the door, which was answered promptly by a maid.

  ‘Mrs and Miss Meehan? Please follow me.’ They went up the staircase to the first-floor room where Mrs Norton was waiting for them. Alice was impressed by her purple gown and the thick, black upswept hair, but later she would realise that it was one of a range of immaculate wigs. Mrs Norton’s complexion was pale, perhaps due to the fact that she rarely went outside, avoiding direct sunlight, and her face was well-powdered. There was an almost overpowering smell of expensive perfume – she must be quite old, Alice imagined, maybe fifty, but she certainly hadn’t dabbed on lavender water like Emma.

  Mrs Norton appeared rather aloof, regarding Alice through a monocle, which hung round her neck on a silver chain. ‘You will have gathered, I hope, that this is a superior dressmaking establishment, not a sweatshop where the workers are exploited, and that I only take on young girls of good character, decently educated, who have the skill to hand-finish expensive garments. The business is constantly expanding, and at present I have three other apprentices of a similar age to Alice who are supervised at work by my niece, Lucy, who is a few years older, but has successfully completed her apprenticeship with myself. There are a number of skilled dressmakers in the main workroom, who will take it in turn to instruct you in the academy. I also employ two mantle-makers, who carry out special commissions, like ceremonial cloaks, and they work with the most sumptuous materials. They also repair prec
ious old mantles and are superb at embroidery and embellishment. Now, Alice, if you and your mother will follow me, I will show you the workrooms, the classroom, the showroom, where clients are received, and your living quarters on the top floor.’

  Sewing machines whirred in the largest workroom, and Alice took in the atmosphere; the seamstresses concentrated on their work, not seeming to notice the interruption. They tiptoed out of the room and Alice was asked to comment on what she had seen. She could only manage to say, ‘I can’t wait to use one of those beautiful machines.’

  ‘You have a lot to learn first,’ Mrs Norton said drily.

  In the classroom, the apprentices were handling swatches of cloth, feeling the texture, deciding which fabric was suitable for which purpose, and learning where the material had been made and how it had been printed or dyed. Lucy greeted her in a friendly manner and introduced her to each of the girls. ‘Take a seat, Alice, and join in the discussion,’ Lucy continued. ‘Purple dye has been the most popular colour since the third century, when it was so expensive it was said to be worth its weight in gold. Can any of you tell me how the dye was originally made?’

  Observing the class from the back of the room, Emma saw Alice’s hand shoot up. Oh dear, she thought, is she going to embarrass me?

  But Alice had been well primed by Miss Janet. ‘Purple dye was made in those early days from the crushed shells of a mollusc, but now aniline dyes are used,’ she said.

  Mrs Norton put in, ‘Can you explain how aniline dyes are made, Alice, please?’

  Alice answered, ‘They are extracted from coal tar – mauve was the first dye in 1856, then other colours, but some of them faded in sunlight.’

  ‘However, you must agree, Alice, that aniline dyes, in particular royal purple, have been improved to a high standard nowadays?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Norton,’ Alice agreed.

  ‘You can complete the tour with our new apprentice after class, Lucy. Meanwhile, I will discuss business with Mrs Meehan,’ her aunt decided. She turned to Emma. ‘I expect you intend to travel home tonight?’ Mrs Norton led the way back to the reception room where they had met.

  Emma’s throat felt dry. It was the first time she had been invited to speak, she thought wryly. ‘I am staying with relatives tonight in Commercial Road and returning home tomorrow. My eldest daughter is holding the fort, not so much to do now the younger children are all at school.’ She thought it prudent to say ‘with relatives’ not, ‘with my brother-in-law’ as that would lead to more explanations.

  ‘I think Alice will fit in well here,’ Mrs Norton said unexpectedly, with a glimmer of a smile. ‘Now, we have some papers to sign.’

  *

  It was only when she knocked on Chas’s door later that Emma realised she hadn’t said goodbye to Alice or wished her well. She said to herself, I must write to her the minute I get home.

  Chas opened the door to Emma. He was still in uniform, though had removed his boots, and had just come off duty. His face was gaunt, and he had obviously lost weight, but he ushered her in, and said, ‘It’s so good to see you, Emma. I just wish . . .’

  ‘I know,’ she told him. ‘I know, and I feel the same, Chas.’ She looked at him with concern. ‘You need a good, square meal, my dear, and I am willing to cook for you this evening, so let’s talk in the kitchen, shall we?’

  ‘Allow me to escort you to your room first, and while you are unpacking your bag, I will get changed, if you don’t mind. I had thought I could fetch some fish and chips for our supper. I’ve let the cupboard run low. I haven’t had much appetite, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Fish and chips sounds just what we both need tonight,’ Emma said. ‘We’ve both had a long and tiring day, I imagine.’

  They ate their meal at the kitchen table, with a big pot of strong tea to wash it down. ‘Not much washing up – I’ll tackle it,’ Emma said firmly. ‘I’ll join you in the sitting room in a few minutes.’

  ‘I’ve got a little cat for company, she’ll be outside the back door. It’s time for her supper too. Give Kitty the fishy bits, eh?’

  The sitting room looked rather neglected. Emma guessed the reason why.

  ‘I spent most of my time when I was home sitting with Jerusha. She never complained, Emma, and accepted the inevitable. She was back in her childhood those last few days. Talking of her mother and father and her special sister – you. I was so fortunate to marry her and so proud of my wonderful wife. The years we spent together have been the best of my life.’

  ‘How has little Ellie taken her loss?’ Emma asked gently.

  ‘Hard. Very hard. I would love to have her home, but it’s not possible for me to care for a child on my own because of my profession. My hours of duty are unpredictable; she could not be left in the house on her own. I understand that her Aunt Susannah in Battersea, who already cares for Ellie’s sister, has offered to have her live with them, the mother being not so well again, so at least I will see Ellie from time to time, and can contribute to her keep, which is what Jerusha would have wished.’

  ‘Jonathan’s children are still being moved from pillar to post,’ Emma said sadly.

  Glancing round the room she saw the basket of sewing open on the small table by the fire, untouched since Jerusha’s final illness. There was the gramophone, which Chas had bought his wife, in a cabinet with a pile of records. From a bureau drawer, Chas took out a velvet-covered box.

  ‘Jerusha said this was for you, Emma. Have a look inside.’

  Emma recognised immediately the emerald necklace that Chas had given Jerusha on the evening they went to the opera as she’d told her about it in such detail. ‘I’m not sure I can accept this,’ she faltered.

  ‘Of course you can! You must, because it was her wish.’

  Emma said tremulously, ‘I will treasure it.’ But she didn’t think she’d ever be able to wear it without getting tearful, and decided to give it to Immi when she was twenty-one.

  *

  Alice, at nine o’clock that same evening, was already in her narrow, single bed in the dormitory under the eaves. The room was shared by the young apprentices and was modestly furnished; the beds had identical quilts and feather-filled pillows. The bathroom along the corridor was a cavernous room with a deep, mahogany-surrounded bath tub, and a row of basins with shining taps from which gushed hot water – what luxury to most of the girls! There was a list of rules and bathing times. In the WC, a separate cubicle, they were reminded One pull of the chain is sufficient. However, there was no ban on conversation, which suited Alice. No mother to call, ‘Go to sleep, Alice, you’re keeping us all awake!’

  Emma missed her daughter’s chattering that night. My first fledgling to fly the nest, she thought. I hope she won’t be homesick.

  Alice was, in fact, relishing every moment of her new life. She was an independent young lady, although not yet fifteen years of age, and Lucy, Mrs Norton’s niece, discussing the new recruit with her aunt that evening, predicted, ‘Alice will do well, you’ll see, Aunt Emmeline.’

  THIRTY-ONE

  1885

  Emma’s family were spreading their wings. Alice was the first to leave home, while Tom was a railway clerk at Beccles, but still living with his mother, and Immi and Rebecca were helping Emma to run the boarding house. Ernie was eager to become a working lad and only Ted and Frank were still at school.

  In September 1885, Emma told Rebecca, ‘Tom has been offered one of the new railway houses in Ravensmeer now he is a senior clerk and will be moving out shortly. I’ll miss him and the support he gives us. We really can’t make ends meet, I feel, without his money coming in. Although I am called out to confinements when the main midwives are busy, that income is not predictable. It seems to me this is a good time to seek a permanent position as a housekeeper, somewhere I can take the boys – Ernie is ready to begin work but wants to remain near me, I know. However, Ted is doing well with his studies here and I’m afraid he won’t want to change schools: he has been promised a job la
ter as a railway clerk if he does well in his studies. Frank, of course, is confident enough to take a move in his stride.’

  ‘What about Immi?’ Rebecca asked. Immi was out of earshot, wheeling little Bertie in his perambulator up the street, to induce him to have a morning nap.

  ‘I have discussed the matter with Immi, and she would like to take up Tom’s suggestion and keep house for him—’

  ‘That sounds the perfect solution, Emma,’ Rebecca agreed. She was relieved, for now it would be easier to tell Emma that they may be moving to Docking, as Richard hoped to be transferred there so they could keep an eye on his father, who was becoming more forgetful.

  *

  Emma studied the advertisements in The Lady and finally she came across something she knew instinctively would suit her.

  Bedford Lodge, Newmarket. Applications are invited for the post of housekeeper to the residents of the stables cottages, including stablemen/grooms, tack men and several apprentices aged between twelve and fifteen years. The housekeeper will be assisted by a live-in cook and housemaid, and she must be prepared to help the housekeeper in the main house when necessary. A cottage on site will be provided and there is no objection to one or two children of school age interested in working in the stables part-time.

  The successful applicant will be a mature woman, intelligent and discreet. Letters should be addressed to Mr Gurry, the racecourse trainer who is in charge of the stables.

  Excellent references are required.

  ‘How old is mature?’ Emma asked Immi. ‘The references aren’t a problem!’

  ‘About forty, I think – you are a matron, aren’t you?’ Immi said innocently. She was excited at the thought of a more independent role herself.