The Mill Girls of Albion Lane (23 page)

Blushing fiercely, Evie slid her card into the slot. Try as she might, she couldn't get rid of the memory of Fred Lee's clammy fingers pawing her or the fear of what might have happened next if Lily hadn't interrupted him. Why does it have to bother me so much? she wondered. Why can't I brush it off with a laugh and a joke the way Sybil or Annie would?

‘Take no notice,' Sybil whispered as she steered Evie safely past the overlooker. ‘Keep your head down and do your job. He'll soon lose interest.'

‘Hello, Fred – how's the missis?' Fresh from clocking on, Annie treated him to her usual cheeky stare. ‘I bet she's glad to see the back of you.'

Her manner angered Fred and made him flinch. ‘What do you mean?'

‘I only meant she'll be glad to have you back at work and out from under her feet. Why, what did you think I meant – that she'd turned you out of the house for good?'

His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. ‘Take care not to go too far, Annie Pearson, I'm warning you.'

‘Ooh, and don't you be so touchy, Fred Lee!' Annie cooed, pulling her apron over her head and taking up position at her jacquard loom. ‘Come along, Evie love, stand in for Florence and fetch me some fresh bobbins – I'm almost out of red and blue.'

Back at home that evening, Lily learned from her father that Dr Moss had persuaded her mother to go to the hospital after all and that the deed had already been done.

‘She wasn't happy,' Walter reported.

‘But she agreed to it for your sake?' Lily surmised.

‘Aye, but she insisted on doing it her own way. She refused the stretcher and said she would walk out of the house on her own two feet. She wouldn't have ambulance men carrying her.'

‘Did she take a lot of persuading?' Lily wanted to know.

Her father nodded gloomily. ‘She gave way in the end, though. I've never known her do as she's told before. I don't know – it looks somehow as if the fight's gone out of her.'

Lily neither confirmed nor denied her father's observation. ‘I'll take the bus into town and pop into the hospital at visiting time,' she decided, searching in the cupboard for pearl barley to add to carrots, onions and the remains of yesterday's lamb chops to put in the pot for a hearty Scotch broth that would satisfy the ever-ravenous Arthur.

And so began the new routine at number 5, with Lily and Evie taking care of all the cooking and the washing and the ironing, in between visits to see Rhoda in hospital and the usual nine and a half hours a day at the mill.

Neighbours on Albion Lane stepped in to lend a hand whenever they could, but still the main burden fell on Lily and as the days went by without firm news from the hospital, she began to feel worn down and hopeless.

It was Friday morning and Lily was already at work, looking out of the window as usual for a glimpse of Harry delivering Winifred in his boss's Bentley to lift her spirits. Sure enough, the car arrived and Harry hopped out to hold open Winifred's door. Winifred stepped out, very fine in a chocolate-coloured coat with her fox-fur stole and a bright orange hat. She smiled at Harry and thanked him. From her first-floor vantage point, Lily took it all in – Winifred's smile, which Harry returned, then her touch on his shoulder – the very lightest, fingertip touch, as if she were brushing dust from his epaulette, except that she rested her fingers there a moment too long and his gaze met hers. They both smiled, she leaned in and said something, he replied, then Winifred nodded and stepped under the archway, disappearing from view.

What had they talked about? Lily wanted to know. What was the meaning behind those exchanged smiles? Smitten by a sharp and unexpected stab of jealousy, she paused, burling iron in hand, until Miss Valentine passed by.

‘Daydreaming, Lily?' she asked. ‘That's not like you.'

‘I'm sorry, Miss Valentine.' Turning her back to the window, she steadied her trembling fingers and tried to concentrate.

‘I know I'm being silly,' she reasoned later in the canteen as she shared her troubles with Annie and Sybil during their dinner break.

‘Daft as a brush,' Sybil agreed. Lily had broken into the talk they were having about a winter coat that Annie was making for one of her cousins. She'd been having trouble making the lining sit right and was eager to hear Sybil and Lily's opinions on the matter. She looked around the crowded, noisy room, leaned across the table and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘If you want to know, I feel sorry for anyone who has to cart Winifred Calvert around from pillar to post. It can't be easy, putting up with her dishing out orders from the back seat.'

‘Sybil's got a point,' Annie agreed. ‘Anyhow, Harry's only got eyes for you, Lily. He's not interested in Miss Snooty.'

‘Sshh!' Sybil warned. The subject of their conversation had just come into the canteen to fetch a tray of tea and sandwiches from Betty, the mill's cook.

The entrance of the boss's daughter brought down the level of noise as others besides Lily, Annie and Sybil were suddenly on best behaviour.

Winifred, though, seemed oblivious to the effect she'd created, swanning down the aisle between the rows of tables with her nose in the air, leaving no doubt that she considered herself a rose amongst thorns. ‘I didn't ask for meat paste,' she told Betty in a loud voice as she curled back the edge of one of the sandwiches. ‘Today is Friday. My order is for tinned salmon and cucumber.'

‘I'm very sorry, Miss Calvert,' a red-faced Betty stammered, taking back the plate and slicing fresh bread.

Annie raised her eyebrows and tipped the end of her nose with her forefinger. ‘Ooh, tinned salmon and cucumber!' she mocked behind Winifred's back.

Sybil spluttered into her raised mug of tea while Lily frowned.

‘Come along, I haven't got all day,' Winifred chided.

Poor Betty was all fingers and thumbs as she corrected the order but at last the salmon sandwiches were made and handed over to Winifred, who took the tray and exited the way she'd come without a sideways glance.

‘Never mind, Betty, let's hope they choke her,' Annie called out after she'd gone.

‘See,' Sybil pointed out to Lily. ‘Surely that sets your mind at rest.'

A frown still creased Lily's brow. ‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean, what man in his right mind could warm to that stuck-up trollop? No, Lily – Harry's got eyes for no one but you.'

Sybil's reassurance helped carry Lily through the last weekend before Christmas into the start of the next working week.

She spent the time quietly at home with Arthur and Evie doing everyday things that would keep the little boy's mind off his mother's being in hospital – a jigsaw at the kitchen table, rehearsing his spellings for a test on Monday and, best of all, icing the Christmas cake and decorating it with holly leaves made from sugar-coated angelica, together with the miniature reindeer and sleigh that Rhoda kept all year round in a cardboard box behind the clock on the mantelpiece.

Otherwise, there was the organizing of visits to King Edward's Hospital – Evie on Saturday afternoon, Walter in the evening then Lily on Sunday morning – and only an hour on Saturday for Harry to drop in on Lily for a cup of tea and a chat.

He was there on the Saturday when carol singers came down the street and was ready at the door with Arthur to hand over a couple of coppers for their spirited rendition of ‘Good King Wenceslas' and ‘While Shepherds Watched'. Arthur grinned as he heard the clink of his pennies land in the collecting tin and the carollers wished them all a Merry Christmas.

Harry closed the door and glanced at his watch. ‘I'd best be on my way,' he told Lily. ‘Mother's finally roped me in to mending those shoes.'

‘Ta for coming, Harry.' Busy drying tea things and with her mind flying ahead to the next job, Lily was slow to turn from the sink but when she did she saw him cap in hand, still hovering awkwardly by the door and so she started to pay more attention. ‘What's the matter?' she asked.

‘Nowt,' he said, a fraction too quick with his reply.

‘Mam says not to say “nowt”,' Arthur cut in. ‘She says it's “nothing”.'

‘Your mother's right,' Harry said, his face reddening as he fiddled with the rim of his cap. ‘Nothing's the matter. But I was wondering, Lily, do you fancy doing something later tonight?'

‘Oh, Harry, I can't!' Lily hadn't thought that far ahead, but when she did she realized that Evie was going straight from the hospital to visit Margie, and that she would have to stay in to keep an eye on Arthur. Walter, of course, would be down at the Green Cross.

Harry's face fell a mile. ‘I was thinking maybe just a walk up to the Overcliffe Road to see if we can join up with the carol singers? Surely you can get away for half an hour?'

‘I really can't.' Lily put down the tea towel and joined him at the door.

‘Don't worry, that's fine by me,' he blustered. ‘I can join Billy and the rest of the gang, find out what they're up to.'

‘I'm sorry, Harry,' she said, looking into his eyes and laying her hand lightly on his arm. He nodded and departed hurriedly without returning the touch, leaving her dejected and uneasy. She felt a sharp pang as she pictured Billy, Ernie and the rest scooping Harry up and railroading him into dancing and having fun without her at the Assembly Rooms. On the last Saturday before Christmas she knew that balloons and streamers would decorate the hall and a tempting bunch of mistletoe would hang just inside the entrance.

But Harry came back to the house for tea on Sunday and told her how the shoe repairs had taken him longer than expected so he'd decided to stay in after all. I needn't have worried, Lily thought. ‘Why not give Arthur a hand with his jigsaw while I finish the lining on this coat?' she suggested, smiling as Harry sat at the table and spouted silly music-hall jokes for the benefit of a giggling Arthur.

A short while later Walter arrived back from the hospital, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. ‘They're sending your mother home!' he announced, flinging his cap down on the table, loosening his scarf and demanding a mug of good strong tea with two sugars and plenty of milk. ‘Tomorrow morning,' he added. ‘We'll be back to normal, eh, Lily? Just you wait and see.'

‘Merry Christmas, Fred!' Annie chirruped at the overlooker as she entered the weaving shed arm in arm with Evie on Monday morning. ‘“And a merry Christmas to you too, Annie!”' she answered for him, so that the sour look on his face darkened to a deep scowl. ‘“And to you, Sybil, and to you, Evie, and to you too, Florence and Maureen, and to all my wonderful, hard-working girls. It's Christmas – let's give you all a five-shillings bonus, why don't we?”'

‘I'm warning you, Annie,' Fred snarled over the other girls' amused tittering, then he retaliated by choosing an easy target, following Evie to the rack of pirns that she was about to load on to a low metal trolley for distribution around the shed. ‘Leave off from that and come with me,' he ordered roughly.

Evie swallowed hard and pressed her lips together. She put back the big reel of prepared weft yarn and got ready to follow the overlooker.

‘Now, Fred, where are you taking her?' Annie demanded in the same teasing tone but when Sybil gave her a warning look, she stopped.

‘This way,' Fred told Evie, marching ahead of her between the tall looms, criticizing as he went. ‘Maureen, this loom needs cleaning properly, not half-doing. Florence, why aren't those bobbins ready? George, those shafts need oiling – the noise is giving me a headache.'

Meekly, but with a sense of dread, Evie followed her bad-tempered boss out of the weaving shed, down the corridor, under the main entrance and out into the back yard where Harry had just finished dropping off Winifred.

‘Which daft bugger parked this bike right where I can't get past?' Harry wanted to know. In order to turn around he'd been forced to reverse Calvert's precious car through a narrow gap between Fred's machine and the entrance to the engine room. One small scratch on the gleaming paintwork and he was done for, he knew. That would be it – no job and no prospect of finding another, not with times as they were. ‘Was it you, Fred? I might've known.'

‘Call yourself a chauffeur,' Fred retorted with a typical sneer. ‘You could reverse a coach and horses through there.'

‘I take it you're not going to move it,' Harry grumbled, spotting Evie in the background and toning down his language. He got back into the car and began to edge forward, using his wing mirror to judge the distance between himself and the offending motorbike. But he braked and stopped when he caught sight of what the overlooker was up to.

‘I need these bobbins moving,' Fred told Evie as he pointed to a trolley laden with wooden spools of yellow yarn. ‘The testing boys need to get at those bales stacked against the wall. They're taking them down to the Conditioning House.'

One look at the loaded trolley told Evie that it was too heavy for her to shift, but she went behind it and did her best while Lee, who seemed to have overlooked the fact that Harry was still there, stood by with his arms folded.

‘I'd lend a hand, only my back's still bad after my accident,' he said with evident enjoyment, moving in so close that she could feel his breath on her neck.

Even with all her weight put into the effort of moving the trolley, Evie found she could only shift it a few inches. She paused and glanced down the empty corridor that they'd just walked along as if help might be at hand.

‘Here, let me show you how it's done,' Lee muttered, standing behind her and placing both arms around her waist, leaning her forward into the trolley so that the length of his body pressed against her.

Evie gasped and jabbed backwards with her elbows, catching him in the stomach. But he held on, lifting her off her feet then swinging her sideways against the soot-covered wall.