The Girl from the Mill

by Chrissie Walsh

  Edith measured tealeaves into the pot and poured in boiling water, a thoughtful expression creasing her face and her tone speculative as she said. ‘You’ll not need to work at all once you’re wed.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Mam,’ Lacey retaliated, ‘I won’t be a kept woman. I’ve made it clear to Nathan that I’ll make my own way in the world. There are things I want to do, and if I don’t I’ll not be the person I aim to be.’

  Edith shrugged. ‘Suit yourself, you usually do. Most women would give their eyeteeth not to have to work.’ She filled two mugs, setting one down in front of Lacey.

  Lifting it in celebratory fashion, Lacey retorted, ‘Ah, but I’m not most women, am I?’

  *

  The following week, having made a visit to Fenay Hall, Lacey arrived home in a jubilant mood. ‘Guess what Jonas told me,’ she chortled, as soon as she entered the kitchen. ‘Brearley’s have won a contract to make cloth for uniforms for t’British Army. We’ll be back working full time, weaving khaki and serge by the mile.’

  She took off her coat and flopped into a chair by the fire. ‘Thank God for that! Short-time’s a curse. Some of the lasses have been really hard up this last while back, but this’ll give ‘em a chance to earn some decent brass.’

  Edith placed a plate of bread and butter on the table to eat along with coddled eggs. ‘I don’t know how you’ll manage when you do go back, you’ve been that busy dressmaking.’ She tutted irritably, then said, ‘You take too much on, Lacey.’

  Lacey sniggered. ‘You weren’t saying that the other day when Constance Brearley called to collect her suit.’ It had amused Lacey to see how thrilled Edith was by Constance’s visit, and how she had been even more flattered when Constance, accepting a cup of tea, had complemented her on her boiled cake.

  Edith allowed herself a sheepish smile. ‘Aye, I’ll admit I was pleased to see her, for it settled my mind.’ She did not openly acknowledge that up until then she had doubted the veracity of Nathan’s feelings for Lacey, and with him in mind she asked, ‘How did Nathan seem in that letter you got this morning?’

  ‘He sounds cheerful enough. The training camp’s not as grim as he thought it might be and he says he gets on with the men. He’s asked me to knit him some thick socks but I think I’ll leave that to you.’

  Edith grinned. ‘Aye, you might well. You never were a good hand at turning a heel. He’d be marching cockeyed if it depended on you.’

  *

  The following evening, Felicity called at Netherfold, her voice rising above the monotonous clack of the treadle as she and Lacey chatted. These visits, along with the occasional ones Lacey made to Fenay Hall brought Nathan closer, and in her letters to him she wrote of ‘building bridges’ for their future happiness. She made no mention of her suspicions regarding Constance’s duplicity, for whilst Constance accepted Lacey as a worthy dressmaker, Lacey sensed her reluctance to accept her as a prospective daughter-in-law.

  17

  After his brush with the law, Jimmy Barraclough hadn’t returned to work in the Mill. He’d stayed at home, helping Joshua and Matt with the sheep on the moor or planting root crops in the fields. Joshua, presuming his younger son had come to his senses, was overjoyed to see him showing an interest in farming. Matt, being more wary, kept a close eye on his little brother whereas Edith and Lacey, saddened that Jimmy had learned his lesson the hard way, cosseted him with that special affection reserved only for the baby of the family.

  The surly exterior he had adopted while under Arty Bincliffe’s influence reverted to its former cheery cheekiness, Jimmy seemingly content to spend his days at Netherfold and his evenings in the company of his mates; nowadays nice lads he’d gone to school with. Therefore every member of his family was shocked to the core when, on his one day off in the week, he arrived back from Huddersfield an enlisted man.

  ‘Oh, Jimmy, you haven’t,’ cried Edith, images of trench warfare springing to mind.

  Edith, the avid newspaper reader, knew all about the horrors facing the soldiers in France and Belgium: Mons, Liege and Ardennes, place names she had never before heard of, were now as familiar as Huddersfield, Leeds and Bradford, as were tales of poison gas and zeppelins.

  ‘Stay here, lad,’ she begged, clutching him to her breast. ‘I couldn’t bear it if owt happened to you.’

  Jimmy pulled away, embarrassed. ‘I’ll be all right, Mam. It’s me duty; a chance to put right the things I’ve done wrong.’ He flushed at the memory of the robbery, then added jauntily, ‘I’ll be off as soon as me papers come through.’

  When Lacey heard the news, she smiled sadly at his boyish eagerness. Still the same old Jimmy, willing to dive into whatever was on offer with no thought for the consequences. She thought of the young lads from Garsthwaite, some she had worked with, who had already lost their lives. She hugged him tightly. ‘You’ve nothing to prove, Jimmy. You didn’t do anything wrong; you did it for me.’

  Joshua was devastated and Matt incredulous so they blustered at the foolhardiness of his decision. ‘You don’t have to go; farmers are exempt.’

  Jimmy smiled kindly at his father. ‘I’m not a farmer, Dad, never was, never will be. I want to fight for what’s right. Tommy Smith an’ Jimmy Ollerenshaw are going an’ all, so I’ll not be on me own.’

  After a subdued evening meal Jimmy went out to see his mates, leaving his family to mull over the shocking news. Joshua, Edith and Lacey feared for him, Matt however, was impressed and bemused. ‘Our Jimmy a soldier.’ He grinned. ‘He’ll be like a terrier pup wi’ a rabbit. He’ll worry t’Germans to death. For two pins I’d go meself but somebody as to feed the nation. You can’t fight on an empty belly.’

  *

  A chill wind nipped Lacey’s cheeks as, deep in thought she walked down the lane from Netherfold, her warm breath clouding with every step. It was two weeks to Christmas, the rutted mud under her feet hardened to an icy crisp, the last red berries on frost rimed hawthorns cheerful against the ghostly white.

  Christmas wouldn’t be the same this year with neither Nathan nor Jimmy to celebrate the festive season with her. It was more than two months since she’d last seen Nathan, and whilst his letters were full of loving thoughts for her and his humorous accounts of life in Catterick Camp kept her amused, she didn’t envisage a happy Christmas. Furthermore, although she had raised the matter at the last three Union meetings, nothing had been done about the women’s lavatories at the Mill.

  By the time she reached the Mill gates Lacey had somewhat consoled herself with the thought that at least Nathan was still in England and not in France, and Catterick was less than a hundred miles away. Feeling thankful for small mercies Lacey trotted into the Mill yard, curiosity aroused when she saw a team of builders unloading their tools. ‘What’s to do?’ she asked a young lad humping a bag of cement.

  ‘We’re building three new water closets over there,’ he said, pointing to a gap between the weaving and spinning sheds. He heaved the bag back to his shoulder and strolled away.

  At that moment, Jonas Brearley stepped out of the Mill office and strutted over to where Lacey, barely able to contain her excitement, stood.

  ‘I gather you’re behind this,’ Jonas barked, gesturing towards the builders.

  Although he admired Lacey’s forthrightness and had no strong objections to his son’s relationship with her, he still had certain reservations. She was an employee and even though she had been made welcome in his home, Jonas was at a loss dealing with her at the Mill. Furthermore, the heavy dinner he had consumed at the Rotary Club the night before had left him with heartburn.

  ‘That’s right, sir. It was me suggested the Union approach you with the idea of getting better lavatories for the women.’

  Jonas’s eyes bulged in their sockets as he swallowed the acid bile burning his gullet. ‘Are you taking advantage of me because of my son?’

  Undeterred, Lacey met his grim expression directly. ‘No, sir; it has nothing to do with that. I
promised the women I’d see they got better facilities an’ I don’t like going back on me word.’

  ‘Your word! Who the bloody hell do you think you are?’ Jonas looked fit to burst.

  ‘You know who I am, Mr Brearley.’

  Jonas, his bluster evaporated, gestured again at the builders, ‘Well, as you can see, you’ve got your way. Now get to work.’

  Lacey bobbed her head deferentially and said, ‘Thank you, Mr Brearley, sir. I’m most grateful.’

  Heart singing like a bird, Lacey dashed into the weaving shed. She had taken the bull by the horns and had won a small victory. For the rest of the day the women who had joined the Union congratulated Lacey and themselves on the new lavatories under construction.

  The clocking off hooter had barely ceased its long, mournful blast when Lacey, muffled in her coat and scarf, stepped out into the Mill yard ready for the long walk home. The sky was dark, a few stars gleaming brightly in the blackness. Leaving Joan to wait for Stanley at the dye house door she walked through the Mill gate. A tall figure caught her by the arm. ‘Good evening, madam: first lieutenant Nathan Brearley at your service, desiring to walk you home.’

  Lacey flung herself into Nathan’s arms.

  ‘When did you get back?’

  ‘About an hour ago; I’ve wangled four day’s leave before they send me elsewhere.’

  Lacey shuddered at the thought of elsewhere but, unwilling to spoil the sheer bliss of having Nathan home for a few days, she put it to the back of her mind.

  *

  On the day before Nathan was due to return to barracks, Constance hosted a small party. Overjoyed to have her son at home, she wanted to celebrate. Against her will she had invited Lacey, a girl she still merely tolerated. For whilst she admired her talents with a needle and thread and found her interesting and amusing, she was as opposed to her becoming Nathan’s wife as ever.

  Nathan was overjoyed to learn Constance had included Lacey in her guest list without him having to request it. Constance was curious to see if, in his absence, Nathan’s desire for Lacey had waned and, in the company of girls like Violet Burrows and Sylvia Oldroyd – girls of his own class – he would find her wanting. Secretly she hoped he would.

  *

  The party was in full swing, Nathan waltzing with his mother when Alice Burrows and her daughter, Violet, cornered Lacey.

  ‘Is the poor little mill girl enjoying herself?’ tweeted Violet. Her eyes gleamed malevolently and spittle flecked her prominent teeth. ‘It must be quite exciting for you to be in such elevated company. No doubt it’s a change from the dirty, greasy mill hands you’re used to dallying with.’

  Lacey’s clenched fist was itching to deliver a sharp punch to those offensive teeth, and she clenched it even tighter when Alice said, ‘Your audacity shocks me. You’re nothing but a jumped up, money grabbing little whore.’

  Desperate to prevent a scene, Lacey swallowed the crude retort that threatened to burst forth and through gritted teeth said, ‘It’s your ignorance that shocks me. How dare you approach me in this manner? I don’t want to ruin Nathan’s party so I’ll excuse your petty opinions and leave you to stew in your own malicious juices.’

  Lacey began to walk away but Alice caught her arm. ‘You think you’ve finally snared him, don’t you? Well, you’re sadly mistaken. I’ll do anything to prevent you getting Nathan.’

  ‘Getting Nathan what?’ Nathan appeared unexpectedly at Lacey’s side, placing his arm around her waist.

  Alice blanched and, letting go of Lacey’s arm, smoothly replied, ‘A suitable Christmas gift for you, darling.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Lacey was seeking our advice, seeing as how we are better acquainted with your likes and dislikes. After all, Violet has known you since you were both children and has always had your best interests at heart.’

  Nathan grinned. ‘Lacey’s the only gift I want.’ He caught hold of her hand. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’

  Lacey twirled and swayed, a fixed smile on her face; another time and place and she’d have dealt with Alice and Violet with her tongue and fists. Being a lady didn’t come easy.

  *

  Two days after Nathan had returned to his unit, Lacey chanced to be in the mill yard when Jonas stepped out of his office. Seeing her, he crooked a beckoning finger.

  Her thoughts whirling, Lacey tidied her hair and straightened her overall as she walked towards him. Had he heard about her altercation with Alice and Violet Burrows? Had they complained to Constance? Was he about to remind her of her lowly position? Well, so what! Defiantly, she threw back her shoulders and faced him.

  Jonas rested his hands on the rail of the office steps, his corpulent belly butting the edge of it and his waistcoat, fashioned from his own finest worsted, almost bursting at the buttons as he glowered down at her. ‘Well, lass, you got your way with the women’s closets, now let that be an end to it.’

  All thought of her earlier misgivings fleeing her mind, Lacey took a deep breath and said, ‘It doesn’t have to be. There’s more to be done, so begging your pardon, I’ll put it to you now.’

  Jonas’s eyes bulged, but curious to hear what she had to say, he barked, ’Well, make it quick; time’s money.’

  ‘Aye, it is,’ agreed Lacey, ‘and now we’ve got more than one closet, you’ll feel the benefit. When we had only one there wasn’t enough time for us all to use it at break times. That meant we had to stop our looms and go during working hours; everybody was losing out. Us because we’re neglecting our pieces and you because the more pieces we finish, the quicker you can sell ‘em to the British Army.’

  Jonas, impressed by the flurry of words and their reasoning, acknowledged them begrudgingly. ‘You make sense lass – but then you usually do – so I’ve noticed.’

  Heartened by his response, Lacey decided to elaborate. ‘It’s like this, sir. The more you do for your workers the more they’ll do for you. Better facilities make working hours pleasanter and we work twice as quick and twice as hard. You see, weaving wi’ a full bladder makes the lasses distracted and then they get careless, just like not having warm drinks on cold days leaves their bellies feeling cheated.’

  Lacey paused for breath, Jonas opened his mouth to speak, but Lacey charged on. ‘If we had a ready supply of hot water to make warm drinks to go with our sandwiches we’d feel better for it, particularly in this cold weather. Like the army, Mr Brearley, we fight better on a full stomach,’ she concluded, rephrasing what she had read in the newspaper to suit her own ends.

  Jonas chuckled. ‘By, but you’ve a brass neck on you, lass, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, sir,’ Lacey said, hoping she hadn’t overplayed her hand.

  Jonas slapped his hand on the rail. ‘Leave it with me, lass. Now bugger off back to t’weaving shed.’

  Jonas watched Lacey go, his eyes alight with admiration. She was, he thought, a rougher version of his daughter, Felicity: feisty and full of ideals. He strolled towards his waiting car, replaying the exchange. Lacey Barraclough might not be a lady, but by gum she knew the way a mill worked; a lass like that would make Nathan a splendid wife. Once they were wed she’d be happy to work alongside him, not as a weaver, of course, more in an advisory capacity.

  On his homeward journey to Fenay Hall, Jonas was in reflective mood. Perhaps too much soft living had made him neglectful of his duties to his fellow man – or woman. He chuckled heartily as he recalled Lacey’s description of women’s needs, his chauffeur wondering what had him so amused.

  18

  Standing on the platform of Huddersfield Railway Station saying goodbye to someone I love now seems to be part of my life, thought Lacey, as she waited for Edith to release her hold on her youngest son. Last week it was Nathan and today it’s our Jimmy.

  ‘Be careful and come back unharmed,’ said Lacey, hugging him close. ‘Write when you can. You know you’ll always be in our thoughts.’

  Joshua shook Jimmy by the hand. ‘I’m proud of you, lad.
Think on now, take care.’ Matt slapped him on the back then grabbed him in a brotherly hug. The train snaked its way into the station, Jimmy lifting his bag with one hand and wiping his eyes with the other. Smiling bravely, he dived into a carriage and was lost in the melee of bodies already aboard. Slamming doors, clouds of steam and a whistle’s blast and the train pulled away, the families of the departed soldiers shuffling miserably towards the station’s exit, Joshua, Edith and Matt amongst them. Lacey hung back, her eyes riveted on a poster of Lord Kitchener urging men to do their duty. Staring into the Secretary of War’s piercing blue eyes she prayed he would take care of Nathan and little Jimmy.

  *

  Christmas came and went without Lacey sharing any of the joys of the previous year, but she was not downhearted. Her persistence in the Union was paying off. She had achieved something worthwhile, her faith in human nature restored, her only sadness Nathan and Jimmy’s absence.

  On the first working day of the New Year, 1915, Lacey knocked on Jonas Brearley’s office door. ‘I came to say a proper thank you for listening to me and for providing the new lavatories and the hot water, sir. All the women are grateful.’

  Jonas accepted the thanks with a flicker of a smile and a curt nod. As Lacey turned to go, he said, ‘By the way lass, I hope you’re taking time to write to that lad o’ mine. You’ll not forget him while he’s away, will you?’

  ‘There’s no danger of that, sir. Wherever he is, he’s in my thoughts and prayers, and always will be.’

  *

  Nathan’s transfer to a camp in Staffordshire and Jimmy’s to Newcastle seemed to Lacey as though the war was taking them further away from home bit by bit. To make matters worse sleet lashed the Colne Valley for days on end followed by blizzards of snow and the landscape was shrouded in a blanket of icy white. Slithering and sliding along the road morning and evening, Lacey journeyed to and from the Mill, cursing the weather, the war and her humdrum existence.