Читать книгу The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl - Nancy Carson - Страница 23

Poppy Silk woke up frowsy-eyed and blinked at the soft, hazy light encroaching into the spartan bedroom through grimy panes. In a flutter of anxiety, she turned her head to see who was lying beside her, having experienced a vivid, disturbing dream. She sighed with relief. Only her mother was at her side. Well, thank the Lord. It had been just a dream and she was safe. Poppy had decided to share her mother’s bed after Tweedle Beak had sloped off; Buttercup, although he had promised to protect Sheba and her children, had chosen to remain in the lodgers’ dormitory … for the time being, at any rate.

Sheba opened her eyes, roused by Poppy’s nervous fidgeting.

‘You’re awake, our Poppy. Are you getting up?’

Poppy stretched, her slender arms poking out of flannelette sleeves and thrust out over the bedclothes. ‘I’ll light the fire.’ She pushed back the blankets and swung her pale legs out, but remained sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘I had a vile dream, Mom.’

‘Oh?’ She sat up and puffed up the lumpy pillow behind her.

‘I’d jumped the broomstick with Dog Meat, and Minnie came chasing after me with the same broom I’d jumped over, except that it had grown to twice the size. Then we was bundled into bed by everybody … with Minnie and Jericho laughing their heads off and watching. Dog Meat was horrible as well. I couldn’t stand him kissing me. His breath stunk horrible.’

Sheba chuckled. ‘Well, you don’t have to kiss him. It was only a dream.’

‘But it could have been real – if Buttercup hadn’t stepped in …’

‘Thank God for Buttercup …’ Sheba mused.

They were silent for a second or two, contemplating the happenings of last night in the light of the fresh perspectives that a decent night’s sleep affords. Poppy was first to resume the conversation.

‘I meant what I said last night, Mom – I love you all, but I can’t go on tramp with you and Buttercup.’

Sheba pushed away the bedclothes and began picking at a fragment of loose skin around her bunion. ‘You’re a grown woman now, our Poppy. You have your own life to lead, and I won’t stand in your way if you want to get out of this rut we’re all in. So what d’you intend doing?’

‘I just don’t belong here,’ Poppy said, combing her fingers through her tangle of yellow hair. ‘I don’t belong on any navvy encampment. I’ve always felt it, for as long as I can remember. I want to find work in service. I want to see how other folk live in their big red-brick houses. I want to sleep in clean sheets, work in clean clothes. I want to live in a warm house, and polish fine furniture and silverware. I want to be where there’s spotless clean floors with no filthy mud, where smelly men don’t swear and spit all the time, where there’s a lock on the privy and I can have a pee and that without having to keep my foot pressed against the door. I wouldn’t mind washing dishes, turning a mangle and pegging somebody else’s washing out. It’d be luxury compared to this.’

‘So when will you go?’

‘Today. I might as well. I’ve got that money Buttercup gave me … But I still think it ought to go back to them as paid Tweedle.’

‘Keep it, our Poppy. That’s my advice. If they was prepared to hand over money to win you, when you was supposed to suffer the consequences and have no say in the matter, then they don’t deserve any money. They’re as bad as Tweedle Beak. They’re all thieves and liars anyway, as likely to pinch off their own grandmothers as off anybody. Like Buttercup says, everybody will think Tweedle’s sloped off with the money anyway. If you intend making a new life for yourself, that money will come in useful.’

Poppy smiled. ‘Yes, it’ll come in useful all right.’ She stood up and the hem of her nightdress fell around her calves. In her bare feet she padded out into the main room and lit the fire as usual.

Poppy left the hut for the last time that same dinner time. She kissed her mother, her two sisters and two brothers a tearful goodbye, and went to say farewell to Minnie.

‘Where are you going?’ Minnie asked, with a sudden avid interest.

‘I’m off to make me own way in the world.’ Poppy smiled bravely. ‘I’ve had enough of the navvy life. And now that me mother and the kids are going on tramp with Buttercup, I thought it was as good a chance as any to get away.’

‘What will you do, Poppy?’

‘I’ll try for work in service.’ She shrugged. ‘It might be a risk, but it’s a risk I want to take.’

‘I’m coming with you.’

Poppy’s eyes sparkled with affection for her friend. ‘Honest? You want to come? What will your mother and father say?’

‘Good riddance, I wouldn’t be surprised. Who cares? Hang on. I’ll just get me things and say ta-ra to ’em.’

While Poppy waited for Minnie she pondered that at best it might be a long, long time before she ever saw her family again, perhaps years; at worst, never. Yet life was like that. Nothing was ever certain. Her father had gone away, forced to do so by circumstances, and all she had of him now were her memories. Robert Crawford had gone, and while he said he would be back, it did not necessarily mean that she would see him again either. But she was surviving, despite these enormous emotional setbacks. It was painful to think of losing her father and Robert, and in such short order, but she would come through it. It was amazing how other events occurred to occupy your mind and keep you from pining for all those absent folk you loved so well. Well, so it would doubtless always be. Life went on …

‘I’m ready,’ Minnie said, as she closed the door of the shanty they called Hawthorn Villa for the last time, carrying a bundle wrapped in a pillowcase. ‘Where shall we go?’

‘Into Dudley,’ Poppy said, as if there could be any question about it. ‘Have you got some money? We’ll have to find somewhere to sleep tonight.’

‘I got two and six.’ Minnie looked at Poppy with an expression first of sheepishness and then triumph. ‘I went with Jericho again last night and I made him pay me.’

‘Minnie! You never.’

‘It was lovely enough, without being paid for it as well.’ She giggled as she recalled it.

‘Minnie, you’re the limit.’

They walked on, speculating on when they might next see their families, and on what they might expect from the great big burgeoning world into which they were about to launch themselves.

The clock on St Thomas’s church struck three.

‘Let’s look in the shops, Minnie,’ Poppy said as they walked down Dudley’s Georgian high street. ‘Buttercup gave me some money. I think I’ll buy me some new clothes. I can’t stand these I’m wearing any longer. I feel like a navvy’s wench in them. I’m determined to get rid of all traces. Lord knows what I must look like to other folk.’

They walked past elegant dwellings with their porticoes and mullioned windows, past alehouses and hardware shops, haberdashers, milliners, a barbershop. As usual among the shoppers, there was a contingency of drunks stumbling from one tavern to another. A street hawker passed them coming in the opposite direction pushing a handcart. He was selling candles and the two girls avoided him. Horses clopped over the cobblestones, and the wheels of the vehicles they hauled rattled as they rolled over the uneven surface. Near the town hall Poppy and Minnie tarried outside a ladies’ outfitters, gazing at the tempting display in the window. Eager to see what else was on offer, Poppy pulled Minnie inside.

‘Can I help you?’ a young woman asked hesitantly, inhibited by their rough appearance.

Poppy guessed the girl was about eighteen or nineteen. She had a pleasant face with large eyes, and was wearing a plum-coloured muslin skirt flounced and edged with embroidery, and a blouse to match.

‘I’m looking for something like what you’m wearing,’ Poppy said brightly.

‘I can have something made for you, miss. It could be ready in about a week. Would you like me to take your measurements?’

‘Ain’t you got something I can wear now?’

‘Only second-hand, I’m afraid.’

‘Can I see?’

The girl eyed Poppy up and down estimating her size, then turned to a rack of clothes. She rummaged through it, hesitating at an indigo garment before moving on to another.

‘That blue one,’ Poppy said. ‘Can I see it?’

‘I thought about that, but I thought it too old for you, miss. But try it on if you like. It’s about your size, I think.’ She took it from the rail and held it in front of herself for Poppy to inspect.

‘It’s a lot nicer than the one I’m wearing. Can I try it on?’

‘Yes. You can change through there …’ The girl pointed to a door.

Both Poppy and Minnie entered the musty changing room and Poppy slipped off her red flannel frock, of which she had become very self-conscious. She saw too how shabby her shift looked in the long mirror before her. She slipped the blue dress on and noticed that it had an underskirt sewn in at the waist. When she had adjusted the fall to her satisfaction, Minnie fastened the eyelets at the back of the bodice. Poppy looked at herself in the mirror, and turned sideways to gain a view of the dress in profile. It all fitted perfectly, emphasising her narrow waist and pert bosom. She smiled with pleasure and, without hesitation, left the changing room and went back to the assistant, with Minnie in tow.

‘It fits perfect, look.’

The girl inspected it, rearranging the fall of the skirt and its flounces. ‘It fits you very well, miss,’ she said sincerely. ‘And you carry it off nicely … But then you have that sort of face and figure.’

‘What sort of face and figure d’you mean?’

‘Well …’ The assistant smiled reservedly. ‘I think you could wear anything and look right in it. Some girls can. I envy you.’

Poppy smiled at the compliment. ‘How much is it?’

‘Half a guinea.’

‘I’ll give you eight shillings.’

The girl shook her head. ‘I daren’t, miss. I’d get the sack.’

‘Nine and six, then. Or I’ll go somewhere else.’

‘All right … But even at half a guinea it would be a very prudent purchase, miss. It would have cost seventeen shillings and sixpence new. And it looks so well on you.’

‘I’ll take it,’ Poppy said. ‘But I need some other things as well.’

‘Oh? Whatever help I can give …’ The girl smiled more confidently now.

Poppy, still conscious of her origins, said, ‘I need a new shift, chemise, stockings, garters … Oh, and a mantle for the winter. Our fathers were navvies, and we’ve just left the railway encampment at Blowers Green.’ She felt sure that an explanation was appropriate. ‘It’s closing down and we’ve decided we want to make our own way in the world. So we need to look neat and tidy if anybody’s going to give us work. If you’ve got any tips you can give us on what to wear for the best, miss, we’d be glad of ’em.’

‘Of course. I’d be only too pleased.’ The girl smiled amenably now. These were not only down-to-earth girls and sociable, but they even looked up to her, a mere shop girl. There was also a shilling or two to be made here.

‘And when you’ve done me, Minnie wants new clothes as well.’

‘But I’ve only got two and sixpence, Poppy,’ she protested.

‘Oh, don’t worry, Minnie. I’ve got enough for both of us.’

‘You didn’t have to buy me a whole new wardrobe, Poppy,’ Minnie said, as they left the shop feeling like real ladies, having decided to wear their new purchases. ‘How much did you spend?’

‘Less than four pounds. I told you, Buttercup gave me some money before I left. What use is it unless you spend it?’

‘I don’t know how to thank you, Poppy …’

‘You’re my friend, Minnie. You’d do the same for me. Anyway, I might want a favour myself some day. And that frock looks like it was made for you.’

‘And yours. It matches your eyes beautiful.’

They walked on, carrying their old clothes in bags the shop girl had supplied.

‘Did you notice that girl’s hair, Minnie?’ Poppy asked.

‘Course.’

‘I’d like mine done like that, pinned up all neat and tidy. I’ll try and do it later, when we’ve found somewhere to sleep tonight.’

‘Where are we gunna sleep, Poppy?’

‘An inn, I reckon, eh? Then we can look for cheaper lodgings that’ll do us till we find work.’

Poppy and Minnie found a room at the Old Bush Inn in the middle of Dudley town, about a hundred yards from the old town hall. The landlord was reticent about letting them have it at first. He looked at them suspiciously, for he could not quite place them in the social scale, and asked them why girls so young wished to take such a room when they were clearly unchaperoned. But, when he saw Poppy’s money and took a deposit, he was left in no doubt of her ability and willingness to pay. He warned them that they must not have men in their room; he would not tolerate that sort of thing going on. His was a respectable coaching house and he had to maintain its reputation, with respectable visitors from London and other faraway places coming and going all the time.

Poppy nudged Minnie and grinned at the absolute novelty of being shown to their room by a serving maid, however untidy. Her hair was awry under her mob cap, and her fingernails still showed signs of a visit to the coal cellar. At the top of the stairs, she unlocked a door and allowed the young guests to enter.

‘This is yer room. I hope you’ll be comfitubble.’

‘Thank you,’ Poppy said with an indulgent smile, enjoying the novelty of feeling sublimely superior and ladylike in her new blue outfit and stockings and the fashionable boots Robert Crawford had bought her.

‘I’ll be back in a bit to light yer a fire. It goes chilly this side o’ th’ouse.’

‘Thank you,’ Poppy said again, unfastening the ribbons of her new bonnet.

After the maid had lit the promised fire, the girls settled in, giggling and pampering themselves, all too aware that for the time being they were free from the drudgery of work. Poppy placed a chair in front of the window and peered onto the heads and hats of passers-by in the street below, while Minnie dressed her hair for her, in an effort to copy the shop girl’s style. A coach halted outside and there were calls from the driver and the ostler as passengers disembarked and its cargo of luggage was unloaded. A horse whinnied, a cart clattered past. There was so much going on down there, noise and an endless movement of people and traffic.

‘Did you notice the maid?’ Poppy said. ‘She must’ve thought us proper ladies in our new clothes.’

Minnie chuckled delightedly. ‘I know. I thought that. It’s nice to be looked on as somebody important, in’t it?’

‘For once.’

‘What shall we do tonight, Poppy?’

Poppy shrugged. ‘We could go for a walk in the town and show off our new clothes.’

‘Yes,’ Minnie replied with enthusiasm. ‘Who knows? We might even meet a couple of dandies.’

‘You’ve got men on the brain, Minnie. Am I done yet?’

‘Just about.’ Minnie patted Poppy’s hair a last time. ‘Turn your head. Let’s have a look … Yikes! Now you really do look a somebody …’

‘Let me see.’ Poppy stood up and walked across the room to the wardrobe that had a long mirror on one door. She looked at herself, turning her head this way and that to view the creation from all angles. The set of her head looked different with her hair up. There was an elegance about her that she did not realise she possessed, and it delighted her. ‘I’ll have to make sure my neck’s clean in future, Minnie,’ she giggled.

Minnie laughed too. ‘Not just your neck. Ladies have a bath regular, I bet. I never bin in a bath in me life.’

Poppy pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to redden them. ‘Oh, I don’t see as you need to go in a bath if you have a good wash down regular.’

‘Well, we can have a good wash down here all right, with no navvies to come a-spying … So you like your hair then?’

‘I love it,’ Poppy replied. She turned away from the mirror. ‘I’ll do yours now, shall I, Minnie?’

‘I doubt if it’ll look as good as yours.’

‘Are you saying I won’t be as good as you at this hair-doing lark?’

Minnie chuckled happily. ‘I mean my hair, not your fiddling with it …’ She sighed contentedly. ‘You know, I’d love a cup of tea, Poppy. Shall we ask that scruffy little wench to bring us a pot? I’ll pay …’

Dudley Town Hall was a looming two-storey affair built of brick and stone. The civic business of the Town Commissioners was conducted in the rooms on the upper floor, where tall, rectangular, Tudor-style windows afforded views towards St Thomas’s church at the top end of the town, and the old St Edmund’s, dwarfed by the castle, at the bottom. It was crowned by a small tower, from which tolled the original bell, taken from the Old Priory, when the marking of civic occasions and calamities was required. The lower part of the building was open to the elements, being nothing more than a series of arches that supported the upper floor. It provided accommodation for traders who set up stalls there on market days and shelter from the rain for everybody else.

It was providing shelter that Saturday evening for a miscellany of folk, including Poppy and Minnie, who had been taking their stroll when the rain came down, threatening to spoil their new clothes and bonnets.

Minnie tapped her foot impatiently on the stone flags beneath her feet, gazing with longing at The Seven Stars Inn across the road in High Street. ‘That’s where Tom and that Luke have a drink.’ She nodded her head in its direction. ‘We ought to go over when it’s stopped raining and see if they’m in there.’

‘I doubt if they’d recognise us now,’ Poppy answered indifferently. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to see Luke. He’s got black teeth. Nor should you want to see Tom.’

‘I like Tom,’ Minnie asserted. ‘I’d like him to see me in me new outfit.’

‘Anyway, I doubt if you’d find respectable girls going into a public house without a man to go in with.’

The rain started to ease and many of the people sheltering left and made a dash for it. Minnie walked over to the high wrought-iron railing set in one of the arches and, with her face pressed between two bars, peered through optimistically. A black clarence was being driven past just then, and Minnie caught sight of a middle-aged man looking at her from within. At once he hailed the driver to stop and opened the door. He opened the door, leaned out and beckoned. Minnie glanced at Poppy to see if she had noticed the exchange, but she evidently had not. The man beckoned again and Minnie went towards him, alerting Poppy to this unexpected arrival.

‘What d’you want?’ Minnie asked, smiling with curiosity.

‘What do you do?’ came the reply.

‘What do I do?’ Minnie queried. ‘I think you mean how do you do.’

The man grinned. ‘I know what I mean, young miss. I ain’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?’

‘Minnie. What’s yours?’

‘Minnie!’ he repeated, ignoring her question. ‘A pretty name. But then, you’re a very pretty girl. Are you going to come with me? Out of the rain?’

‘Where to?’

‘Well, we don’t have to go anywhere special. I have a couple of bottles of champagne right here. You look the sort of girl who might appreciate champagne.’

‘What’s he on about?’ Poppy asked, on hearing the exchange.

‘He’s got summat he calls champagne,’ Minnie whispered out of the side of her mouth. ‘It’s a drink o’ some sort, in’t it?’

‘Is it?’

‘He wants me to go with him.’ Minnie turned to the man in the clarence. ‘I got me friend wi’ me. Can she come as well?’

‘The more the merrier. What’s she like? Is she as pretty as you?’

‘Here she is … Show yourself, Poppy. The gentleman wants to see you.’

Poppy stepped forward and stood by Minnie.

‘God’s truth, she’s a dazzler. I’ll give you a shilling each if you’ll come with me.’

Polly tugged at Minnie’s sleeve with the intention of pulling her away. ‘He thinks we’re street wenches, Min,’ she warned in a hoarse whisper. ‘Come away from him.’

‘He’s a toff, Poppy,’ Minnie hissed impatiently. ‘Come on, we can get blathered and it won’t cost we a penny.’

‘I don’t want to get blathered.’

‘Oh, Poppy … You never want to do anything. You’m never no fun. Come on. You’m coming with me for once.’ Minnie took Poppy’s arm and coaxed her along to the clarence.

The man smiled and pushed the door wide open for them to enter, then took their hands in turn as he helped them up the iron steps of the carriage.

‘So you are Minnie. So, who is your friend?’

‘Poppy,’ Minnie answered, settling herself on the plush leather seat, facing the man.

‘Minnie and Poppy. Well … How come I’ve never seen either of you two little beauties before?’

‘Because we don’t come up the town regular,’ Poppy replied. ‘We’re not street wenches.’

‘I’m very relieved to hear it. So … let’s take a little ride out into the countryside and open that bottle of whisky.’ He tapped the roof of the carriage with his cane and they lurched forwards.

‘I thought you said champagne.’

‘Did I say that? Slip of the tongue.’

‘Where are you taking us?’ Poppy enquired. ‘I don’t think I want to go to the countryside.’

‘Oh, it’s not far. Don’t worry, Poppy, a little trip to the Oakham Fields will only take us ten minutes at a trot.’

They did a circuit of the town hall and turned into a narrow road called Hall Street. There was just enough width to drive a carriage through, but folk walking the street had to press themselves against the windows of the shops and public houses that lined both sides to prevent the wheels splashing them in the gutter. Poppy was inclined to ask that they drop her off, but she could not forsake Minnie alone with this stranger, however respectable he seemed. Minnie had to be protected, if only from herself. They drove on, leaving the huddle of Hall Street behind, and pressed on to where the road became wider at Waddams Pool. It was uphill here and the driver allowed the horse to haul the clarence at its own lumbering pace. The rows of shops and little houses petered out and Poppy could see open fields and a flat stretch of road, where the horse then broke into a trot.

They passed a magnificent house set in its own grounds … then another … and another … For a few moments Poppy was oblivious to the banter already going on between Minnie and this well-dressed man, lost in her own dream world. She was a conscientious maid, dressed in a clean, crisp uniform, employed in one of these fine houses. Of course, she could not have known that one of these fine houses, the one she especially liked the look of, was the home of Robert Crawford.

They stopped briefly at a toll gate, then pressed on. The horse slowed to a rolling walk once more as it pulled them up Oakham Road’s steady incline. Here it was a grotto overhung with trees, and the drops of rain dripping off the leaves was like gravel falling on the carriage’s roof. Fields, bare and harvested, lay on both sides, with only the occasional fine house now. The driver seemed to know where he was going, and climbed down from his box to open a gate to a field that lay behind a tall hedge, well hidden from the road. Poppy looked at the middle-aged man uncertainly and, as the driver put on the brake, it struck her that this opening of the gate and entering the field was done with the practised slickness that regularity affords. To her surprise, the driver took off his cloak, shook the water off it and entered the carriage.

‘So, who have we here, Alfred?’

‘Minnie and Poppy. Lovely little popsies too, don’t you think? Minnie and I seem to have a rapport already, James. If you have no objection I’ll stick with her. We can always swap later. Come and sit by me, Minnie …’

James regarded Poppy with a lascivious interest, looking her up and down. ‘Oh, I think this one’ll do me fine.’ He leered at her. ‘Come here, my flower, and sit close to me. Let me get the feel of you.’

Poppy obstinately remained where she was while Minnie compliantly crossed to the opposite seat and shuffled close to Alfred with an expectant smile.

‘How old are you, little popsy?’ James enquired.

‘Sixteen. How old are you?’ There was scorn in her voice.

He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. ‘It’s of no consequence, little popsy. I’m the one paying the money, so I’ll ask the questions.’

‘You’re old enough to be my dad.’

‘He might be your dad,’ Alfred quipped. ‘Here, James …’ He handed him the bottle of whisky. ‘I do believe yours needs a slug or two of this to loosen her up.’

James took the bottle, uncorked it and offered it to Poppy. She turned her face away sullenly.

‘Have some whisky, little popsy … No? I bet your friend would like some.’

He handed the bottle to Minnie who took a slug as if she had been drinking the stuff regularly for years, then offered it to Poppy once more.

‘Go on, Poppy,’ she urged, wiping her lips. ‘Have a drop. A drop won’t hurt you.’

Poppy shook her head with defiance and Minnie thought she detected a shudder of fear in her friend.

‘She don’t drink,’ she said in her defence.

‘Does she screw?’

‘No, I do not,’ Poppy shrieked and reached for the door handle, burning with indignation.

James caught her arm and yanked her back, pulling her against him. ‘Then I think it’s time you did, little popsy.’ He reached down and took a handful of skirt and petticoat, which he pulled up, exposing her legs. ‘Well, you’ve got a fine pair of legs, little popsy. I can’t wait to get between ’em.’

He raised his knee and thrust it between hers, at the same time pinning her down on the seat while she struggled to free herself. He fingered the buttons of his fly.

‘You’re hurting me!’ she screamed. ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’

‘Easy, easy,’ James said in a calm, soothing voice, a grin on his thin face. ‘It’s so much better if you don’t struggle. For both of us. You’ll get your money afterwards. I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, if I like you, I shall see you again. That’s the way it should be. Not this senseless resistance. You could do well out of me if you play the game …’

Poppy had not lived on a navvy encampment most of her life without picking up a few tips in self-defence. She clenched her tiny fist and whacked James on the temple. As he reeled from the unexpected clout, she brought her knee up hard and rammed it, with all the velocity she could muster, into his testicles. He winced with pain, clutching his crotch, unable to catch his breath to utter any curse. Poppy took the opportunity to grab hold of the door handle and shove the door open. Disentangling herself completely, while the others watched stupefied, she leapt down from the carriage, stepped into a pool of mud and ran towards the gate in the pouring rain.