Until We Meet Again (12 page)

The most shocking state of affairs had been the way child labour had been exploited in the mills. Children as young as five were forced to work, not only in mills but in the coal mines. Many mill girls worked thirteen hours a day. The statue to Richard Oastler, the factory reformer, with a group of little children surrounding him, which had been erected in Northgate in the centre of the city, was a poignant reminder of those dreadful times.

Oastler was not the only reformer. Not all the mill owners exploited their workforce. There were other factory owners, such as Titus Salt and John Wood, who were concerned about the well-being of their workers and campaigned to change the system; and educationalists like Margaret McMillan and William Edward Forster, both Bradford folk, who were pioneers in bringing about compulsory education for all children.

Conditions in the city had gradually improved although the contrast between the living conditions of the poor and the middle classes was still apparent. The start of the war, however, had brought a much-needed boost in production for
the mills as the government placed orders for uniforms and blankets.

The philanthropists of Bradford had seen the need for parks and open spaces where the ordinary people could escape to for a while from their often drab and depressing living conditions. Peel Park, named after Sir Robert Peel, had been opened in 1865 by the Bradford Corporation, a condition being that ‘no intoxicating liquor should be sold and no games played on a Sunday’.

But on the occasions that they had a free Sunday afternoon, Lister Park was the favourite haunt of Tilly and Sophie. It was in Manningham, quite near to Sophie’s home, and they would go there for tea if time allowed. There was a lake, a botanical garden with a stream running through it, and a miniature reproduction of the Yorkshire waterfall, Thornton Force. And whilst listening to a brass band concert at the ornamental stone bandstand, the two girls almost forgot their anxieties about the terrible state of the world.

There were numerous places of entertainment in Bradford: concert halls, theatres, music halls and – more recently – cinemas where the new moving pictures were shown. Tilly’s and Sophie’s musical tastes differed somewhat, but during the latter half of 1915 they visited a variety of different venues. At St George’s Hall they heard
the Yorkshire Symphony Orchestra performing works by Mozart, Elgar and their own Bradford born Delius. This had been Tilly’s choice, but Sophie enjoyed immensely her first introduction to what she called ‘proper classical music’.

The Alhambra had opened the previous year, a few months prior to the start of the war. It was a glittering palace with three distinctive domes, and despite the outbreak of war it had got off to a good start, becoming a favourite escape from reality and the worries of everyday life. It was at Sophie’s suggestion that they went to a variety show there. The singers, dancers, funny men, ventriloquist and conjuror reminded Tilly of the Pierrots back home. But the star of the show was the famous Vesta Tilley, the male impersonator, who almost brought the house down with her performance of ‘Burlington Bertie’. And both girls laughed till their sides ached at the antics of Charlie Chaplin in the moving picture
The Tramp,
which they saw at the first cinema to be built in Bradford, the Theatre de Luxe.

These outings were brief respites from the daily toil at the hospital, which was becoming increasingly arduous and distressing. Several of the soldiers, like young Billy, were too badly injured to survive. For others, whose injuries were less severe, there was the possibility that after a period
in a convalescent home they would be sent back overseas. They had lived to fight another day, as the saying went, but Tilly found herself asking, time and again, what was the meaning of it all?

She was delighted to learn that her short period of leave was to include the important Christmas Day and Boxing Day. What was more, both Dominic and her brother had been granted leave at the same time.

Chapter Twelve

T
illy had heard in letters from home – from her mother, Maddy, Jessie and Hetty, who all wrote to her – about the ongoing work at the house in Victoria Avenue. It was hoped that by the spring of 1916 the building work and renovations would be completed and the nursing home ready to open.

William had listened, quietly and thoughtfully at first, then with more enthusiasm, to his wife’s suggested plans. ‘I think it’s a splendid idea,’ he had told her, after a few moments’ contemplation. ‘Yes…the house next door – Mr and Mrs Whittaker’s place – we can easily raise the money to purchase that. Now, why didn’t I think of it? You are a genius, my dear. I should imagine the price will be quite reasonable; it’s become very rundown over the years. We’d best jump in there
quickly before it’s requisitioned by the government. I’m surprised, actually, that that hasn’t happened already…’

He had visited the estate agency the very next day, which was none other than the business in which Joseph Fraser – Dominic’s father – was a partner with his brother-in-law. The firm of Fortescue and Fraser was well known in the town for fairness and reliability. The two men had a nodding acquaintance with one another, but no mention was made of the fact that some day the two families might have closer contacts. They were both shrewd businessmen with the inherent Yorkshire ability to drive a hard bargain.

William Moon explained why he wanted to buy the property; how he and his wife wished to open a convalescent home for wounded soldiers recuperating after a spell in hospital.

‘I daresay you could get a government grant for that,’ Joseph Fraser told him.

But William insisted that he and his wife wanted to buy and possess the property in their own right. ‘And then, when this confounded war is over, it will be ours to do as we like with,’ he explained.

‘Amen to that,’ replied Mr Fraser. ‘To the war being over, I mean. It’s a great idea you’ve got there. The way things are going we may well need
a lot more of those places. But – please God – we pray that neither your son nor mine end up in one.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed William. He was thinking, though, that to end up in a nursing home might well be a blessing when one considered the grim alternative.

A sum was agreed upon, with Joseph Fraser lowering the price a little as the property would be used for such a worthwhile cause. A government grant was secured for the part of the building work that was necessary for the functioning of the convalescent home, and also for the essential furniture required to equip the place.

By the time Tilly arrived home on Christmas Eve the work was progressing well. The covered passageway linking the two houses had been completed as had the necessary alterations to the kitchen and dining areas, and an extra bathroom and lavatories had been installed. The requests had been given priority treatment as it was of vital importance to the war effort. Work would stop now for the next couple of days; but in January Faith hoped that the functional iron bedsteads and the utilitarian bedroom furniture would be delivered, in time for the opening early in the spring.

‘It has given us all a real sense of purpose,’
Faith told her daughter. ‘Jessie and Maddy and Hetty, they all want to be involved as auxiliary workers; and they’ve promised us some trained nurses and a sister. And we’re hoping that you will be able to join us, Tilly, as a trained nurse. Do you think they will allow you a transfer?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ replied Tilly, but a trifle cagily. She had guessed what might be in her mother’s mind. ‘Perhaps after I’ve been in Bradford for a year. I should have got through my first exams by then… I am very impressed, Mother, by what you’re doing here – what you hope to be doing when you open up, I mean. Believe me, these lads need all the cosseting and comfort they can get after all they’ve been through. They don’t get too much of that in hospital; we’re concerned with making sure they recover from their injuries… if possible.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘But it isn’t always possible.’

‘I’ve said that we shall want to take all ranks,’ said Faith. ‘Not just officers; we want to take privates – the ordinary soldiers – as well. Better to keep to just the army, I think.’

‘They’re usually kept separate if possible, Mother,’ said Tilly, ‘the officers and ordinary soldiers. Although I agree with you, of course.’

‘Well, that’s what I want,’ said Faith decidedly. ‘The bedrooms – or wards, I suppose they’ll call
them – could be kept separate; there are two distinct halves, our house and next door. But I shall insist on a communal dining room and sitting room. And the garden area, of course. We shall take down the dividing hedge and that should be a nice big grassy area in the summertime where the men can relax.’

This conversation was taking place on the afternoon of Christmas Eve. Tilly had arrived home at midday and they were expecting Tommy to arrive towards teatime. And Dominic, too, although he, of course, would go straight home before meeting Tilly that evening. She was in a frenzy of excitement at the thought of seeing Dominic again. She knew, however, that he would not be able to spend all his time with her. His parents would expect, quite rightly, that he should be with them for the all-important Christmas dinner, traditionally a family time. Dominic’s family was not a large one, unlike her own. Their party would consist of Dominic and his parents, and the Fortescue family: Cedric, who was Mrs Fraser’s brother and Joseph’s partner in the business, his wife, Maud, and their unmarried daughter, Priscilla, who was several years older than Dominic.

‘Poor Priscilla; she’s an old maid in the making if ever there was one,’ Dominic had told Tilly,
when explaining about his lack of relatives. Priscilla worked only on a part-time basis, helping her father and uncle in the office. She stayed at home with her mother the rest of the time, assisting with the household sewing and mending, but for most of the time pursuing ladylike pastimes such as fancy needlework and painting. ‘I can see her several years from now spending all her time looking after her ageing parents. Uncle Cedric and Aunt Maud, they don’t seem to recognise that she’s a person in her own right and that she should have a life of her own.’

‘And doesn’t she mind?’ Tilly had asked.

‘She doesn’t appear to. I’ve never known her to stick up for herself. There’s not much to choose between her parents and mine for being strait-laced and rigid in their views. It amazes me that my mother and father have accepted you so well, my darling,’ he told her. Then, realising that that might sound rather uncomplimentary, he had gone on to say, ‘But how could they help but take to you, Tilly? You are such a lovely girl. They could never wish for a nicer daughter-in-law, and that’s what you will be, won’t you…before very long, we hope.’

This conversation had taken place just before Dominic had left for his training. Tilly wondered how his parents – and hers as well, of course –
would take to the news that they were engaged to be married. Dominic had written to her that he had bought a ring, one that he hoped she would like as much as he did.

‘I know that, ideally, we should choose it together,’ he had written, ‘but the shops in Scarborough will be closed over the Christmas period, and I do want us to know that we truly belong to one another, darling, before I go overseas.’

Dominic and Tommy had both completed their officer training and were now second lieutenants. After a short period of leave they would be going with their battalions to join the conflict in Europe. Tilly was trying not to think too much about it at the moment. They had both known that it was inevitable, but they had a few precious days – well, hours, really, considering the claims of their respective families – before they had to say goodbye.

Dominic arrived at her home in the early evening and the other members of the household, including Mrs Baker, refrained from answering the knock at the door, knowing that Tilly would want a few moments alone with him. He looked more handsome than ever in his new uniform; the officers’ uniforms were of a finer material than the khaki worn by the privates and non-commissioned
ranks. Likewise, her brother, Tommy, had looked every inch the professional soldier when he had arrived a few hours earlier.

Tilly and Dominic clung together, silently, in a fierce embrace, as if they could not bear to let one another go. Then, ‘I have missed you so much, my darling,’ he told her in a voice husky with emotion, before they kissed as passionately as they could allow themselves to at that moment, with Tilly’s family only a few yards away.

‘I love you too, so much,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’

‘Yes, it’s me all right,’ he grinned, drawing apart from her and looking at her lovingly. ‘But I know what you mean; it’s what I’ve been dreaming about for months, seeing you again. And now you’re here, more lovely than ever…’

They regarded one another with an ardent, but at the same time, tender gaze. Then Tilly took hold of his hand. ‘Come along,’ she said. ‘You’d better come and say hello to the family.’

Her mother and Uncle Will were in the sitting room, with Tommy, Maddy and little Amy, and Hetty and her daughter, Angela. It was bedtime really for the two little girls – a special bedtime on Christmas Eve because they must prepare for the visit of Father Christmas – but they had been allowed to stay up a little longer to greet the
homecoming soldiers. Unfortunately the daddies of both Amy and Angela – Freddie Nicholls and Bertram Lucas – had already gone overseas and would not be home for Christmas.

Tommy and Dominic exchanged a few cracks about believing that they had seen the back of one another for a few days. ‘And here he is again, turning up like a bad penny,’ Tommy quipped, giving his mate a friendly shove. ‘But I’m not kidding myself that it’s me you’ve come to see!’

‘I should think not!’ retorted Dominic. ‘I’ve seen quite enough of your ugly mug lately to last me a lifetime.’

Everyone knew, though, that the two young men remained the best of friends and would be there to support one another through thick and thin. They were all pleased to see Dominic again. After about half an hour’s chat and exchange of news William drove Hetty and Angela back to their home on the opposite bay. And Maddy, who was still living at her parents’ home, took Amy upstairs to bed.

‘Now make sure you go straight to sleep, then Father Christmas will be sure to come,’ Tommy said, kissing his little niece on the cheek. She was his step-niece, to be accurate, but more than ever, now, they were one big happy family.

‘Let’s hope her daddy is home for next
Christmas,’ said Faith, with feeling. ‘And Bertram too…and Samuel, of course.’ Her elder son – whom she tended to forget from time to time was the true father of Angela – was now at the Front as well. ‘Maddy puts on a very brave face, and so does Hetty, but I know they both feel it very much, their husbands being away.’

‘When your nursing home opens they will have very little time to brood, believe me!’ Tilly remarked.

‘Yes, I can imagine that is very true,’ replied Faith. ‘We are all looking forward to getting started now, to feel that we are doing something worthwhile towards the war effort. We all feel so helpless sometimes when all we can do is knit socks and write comforting letters.’

‘Letters mean a hell of a lot,’ said Tommy. ‘Don’t they, Dominic? Even more so, I should imagine, when you’re in the thick of it all.’

‘Yes, as we will be very soon,’ remarked Dominic.

‘When are you going…and where?’ asked Tilly, a trifle apprehensively, although not sounding nearly so fearful as she was feeling deep inside herself. ‘Have you been told yet?’

‘The short answer is no, to all the questions.’ It was Tommy who replied. ‘It’s all very “hush hush”, though why it should be we can’t imagine.
All we know is that we will be going early in the new year, and it will most likely be to the Western Front.’

‘Freddie and Bertram appear to be keeping out of trouble at the moment,’ said Faith. ‘They both say how much the letters from home mean to them… Samuel as well, although he doesn’t write very often. Maddy and Hetty pass the news on to us and they say that both of them are keeping cheerful and optimistic; at least that’s the impression they give in their letters, but I daresay they only write about the parts that are not too bad.’

‘Freddie and Bertram don’t write to us personally,’ said William. ‘We wouldn’t expect them to, but Faith drops them a cheery note now and then. We were very touched to get a Christmas card from each of them though. And one from Samuel too, which was,’ he nodded meaningfully, ‘a very kind thought.’

Tilly had already noticed the three embroidered cards that had pride of place on the mantelshelf. The design and wording on each of them differed slightly, but they all featured the vertical striped flags of France and Belgium – red, white and blue; black, yellow and red respectively – with Christmas roses or holly and a brief message, ‘Happy Christmas’ or ‘Season’s Greetings’ written
in English. No doubt similar cards, the work of enterprising firms in France and Belgium, were now displayed in the homes of thousands of families across Britain, sent home to wives and sweethearts, parents and special friends.