The Doorstep Girls Read online

  There was despondency in the whole of the town. So many workers had been given shorter hours that everyone was suffering. Rents were not being paid, people were being threatened with eviction and shopkeepers were losing trade as no-one could afford to buy their goods. Some of the traders went out of business as their customers who had been given credit could not afford to pay off their debts.

  Lizzie Sheppard sprained her back. She came home from her work one afternoon and went straight to bed. ‘I lifted a pail o’ water, same as I allus do,’ she grimaced to Grace, who was at home on one of her non-working days. ‘And I felt it go. Mebbe if I rest today it’ll be all right by ’morning. I’ve a big wash to do tomorrow in Albion Street.’

  ‘I’ll see to ’supper, Ma,’ Grace assured her. ‘You just stay there.’

  Her father was at home also and he looked anxiously at his wife lying in the bed. ‘Things’ll be desperate, Lizzie, if you can’t go to work.’ His work had been cut to three days a week, the same as Grace’s.

  ‘It’s nowt,’ she said, but drew in a breath through her teeth as the pain bit into her back and down her legs. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Grace took a bucket to the pump for water and kicked away some of the rubbish which had blown against the wall. She pumped half a bucket of water for she knew she couldn’t carry a full one, unlike her mother who normally could carry two heavy buckets without any trouble at all.

  The water slopped over her feet as she struggled back to the house. She arrived at her door as Daniel came into the court.

  ‘Hello, Grace.’ He didn’t stop as he usually did, and he wasn’t wearing his usual cheerful expression.

  ‘You all right, Daniel?’ She waited, one hand on her hip.

  He pursed his lips and shrugged. ‘Suppose so. Yes,’ and went to his own door. ‘And you?’ He asked almost as if it was an afterthought, and she felt as if she had done something wrong.

  ‘Ma’s hurt her back. She’s gone to bed.’

  ‘Oh!’ His face this time showed concern. ‘Is she bad?’

  She nodded. ‘She’s in pain. She said she’ll be all right by ’morning – but I don’t know.’

  He put his tool bag down on the doorstep and came across to her. ‘There’s no good news anywhere. Workers are being laid off, traders going out of business. What a life.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘I’m sick of it!’ He was very downcast, not his usual self at all.

  ‘Has something happened to you?’ she said anxiously. ‘You haven’t been laid off?’

  ‘No, I won’t be laid off. I onny earn a pittance anyway, being an apprentice, but my boss is worried because he’s lost orders through two of his customers going bankrupt.’

  ‘Oh!’ She hadn’t thought of employers being in difficulties. She thought it was only the poor who were suffering.

  ‘But it’s not just that.’ He scuffed the toe of his boot along the ground. ‘It’s them!’ He inclined his head towards his door. ‘Ma and Da. They’re forever at each other’s throats. I swear they wait until I get home to start arguing. It’s sending me mad.’

  ‘What are they arguing about?’

  ‘Money! Or ’lack of it. Da won’t try for any other kind of work. He says he’s a craftsman and won’t do menial jobs.’

  ‘He’s not been hungry then?’ Grace commented.

  He gave an ironic grin. ‘Not yet! But it won’t be long.’

  ‘Doesn’t your ma work?’

  Daniel shook his head. ‘She’s never had to. She thinks she shouldn’t. They’re both so proud, you see.’

  He seemed so miserable that she wanted to hug him, the way she would have hugged Ruby. ‘But you’re not?’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘Proud? Me? No, I’m not. I’d do anything to earn a crust if I had to.’ His eyes pierced hers. ‘I might have to, if things don’t improve.’

  ‘But you’re bound, aren’t you?’

  He scratched the dark unshaven hair on his chin. ‘Mmm. I am. But I might ask to be released. I need to earn some money, Grace. Things are getting desperate.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Edward Newmarch had had several formal meetings with Miss Gregory. The first was when his mother had arranged a supper and invited the Gregory family to attend. He and his brother were then asked to a concert at the Gregorys’ home, and there had been an occasion when he had requested that Miss Gregory and her cousin Georgiana might accompany him on a carriage drive towards Hesslewood and along the Humber bank.

  Now he was to ask Mr Gregory formally if he might pay court to his daughter with a view to marriage. Edward had thought long and critically about the prospect. May Gregory, at eighteen, was pert and pretty, small and fair-haired, with blue eyes and a snub nose. She was the only child of her parents, used to taking her mother’s place at formal functions if that lady was unwell or otherwise occupied. She could play the pianoforte and sing passably in tune, and was schooled to make light conversation at the luncheon or supper table. She was therefore very suitable and desirable as a wife, and had many admirers.

  She did not, however, set Edward’s heart on fire. But perhaps that is as well, he mused, as he rode towards her home. I would not consider that it is advisable to have a great passion when choosing a wife. It would cloud one’s judgement when assessing her worth in becoming a suitable companion in marriage, a good mother and an able household administrator. Affection, he contemplated, was something which would undoubtedly grow over the years. And if I am candid, he pondered, gratification is one thing, but I don’t feel that I am a man who would be aroused to intense emotion or be totally enraptured.

  He regarded himself as being very sensible and clear-headed over the proposed alliance with May Gregory, and if she irritated him a little with her girlish prattle and kittenish behaviour, why, he thought, she is only young and will grow up to be sensible under my influence. And it is possible that there might even be something in me that is not altogether pleasing to her. Though I doubt that, he had mused, staring into the mirror and smoothing his sideburns and neat beard. She always gazes at me quite adoringly whenever we meet.

  He was interviewed by her father, a brusque, straight-speaking man, whom Edward had met at board meetings before being introduced to his daughter. Montague Gregory was a substantial shareholder in both cotton mills and other major businesses in the town. He was a member of the Dock Board and a director of a private bank. He enquired of Edward’s prospects and knew already of his father’s fortune, and appeared to be satisfied on both scores.

  ‘Good luck then, Newmarch.’ He shook Edward’s hand. ‘Of course if May doesn’t want you – and she might not, for she knows her own mind, I’ll say that for my daughter – then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. But her mother thinks well of you so you might already be under consideration, you know what ladies are like in these matters.’

  Edward, on taking his leave of Mr Gregory, and awaiting May’s arrival in the withdrawing room, considered reluctantly that he didn’t know what ladies were like in these situations, and that perhaps it wasn’t a question of him choosing Miss Gregory as a suitable marriage partner, but of himself or some other suitor being the chosen one.

  His composure therefore was a trifle shaky when May came into the room and he stammered out his proposal in an agitated manner. This annoyed him but appeared to please May, as she took his hand and sweetly said, ‘Dear Edward. Please don’t be nervous. I have already considered my answer, should you propose, and I shall be so very willing to marry you.’

  And so that was it. He rode away feeling pleased with the outcome, but aware also that perhaps his future wife wasn’t going to be quite as malleable as he had imagined.

  The marriage was to be the following spring. ‘So much more pleasant,’ Mrs Gregory gushed to Edward’s mother. ‘The winter is so dreary, when all one wishes to do is to stay indoors where it is warm and cosy, with the curtains drawn and fires blazing. I do not even wish to travel abroad to warmer climes.’ Mrs Newmarch agr
eed most decidedly and so the date was set for April.

  ‘Just as well to wait,’ Martin agreed as he and Edward drove away from the mill the next evening. ‘Business is a little tricky at the moment, and perhaps by April we shall be running normally again. You’ll want to take some time off at any rate after the wedding!’

  They were both under-managers at the cotton mill, their father having bought them twenty shares each at one hundred pounds a share. He had then requested of his friend, Joseph Ryland, the chief manager of the company, that he might give his sons an involvement in the day-to-day running of the business. Charles Newmarch had bought the maximum of one hundred shares and was determined to see a good return for his outlay. He had always been an industrious man and expected his sons to be the same.

  Martin was conscientious and diligent and carefully watched the price of cotton and the production line, but Edward disliked the trade intensely. He hated the fine dust which pervaded every part of the mill, he railed against the commitment of having to be there every morning at nine thirty when he would have preferred to be in bed, and he had no interest whatsoever in the fluctuating cotton market or the conditions of the workforce.

  He took out a handkerchief now and blew his nose to clear the dust from his nostrils. ‘Damned cotton,’ he muttered, but his brother didn’t answer and slowed the horse to allow some workers to hurry across the road in front of them.

  Edward looked up. There were those two girls again, walking arm in arm. He turned sideways to see them and the dark-haired one lifted her head and gave him a half-smile. Her shawl slipped to her shoulders and he saw that her hair was thick and shiny and plaited into a knot behind her neck.

  He nodded to her, and thought that no doubt she would know who he was and he wanted to know her name too. He had looked for her previously, walking through the mill as if on some mission, determining that if he saw her he would pause and say a few words. Not long enough to stop her from working of course, but to ascertain, as a manager naturally would if he was interested in his employees, how long she had been at the mill, and, importantly, what her name was. It had slipped his memory that he was newly affianced to Miss Gregory.

  But she wasn’t there and neither was her friend. He went up and down all the floors in the mill block to look for them, and to the warehouse and the scutching floor, though he didn’t stay long in there on account of the dust. Nor did they appear to be there the following day, and on enquiring of the foreman if they were shorthanded, the man looked at him in surprise and said, ‘Why yes, sir! As you know we had to cut some of ’workers down to three days a week in order to meet costs.’

  ‘Indeed we did,’ Edward had hastily concurred. ‘But let us hope that business soon picks up and we can have them back to normal hours again.’

  ‘Aye, sir.’ The foreman fixed his gaze on him. ‘They’d be glad of that. You maybe wouldn’t know it, but there’s great hardship out there in ’streets.’

  Edward had fallen silent for a moment, then asked, ‘What do they do? Those people who are put on short time, I mean?’

  The foreman gave a grim laugh. ‘They starve, sir!’

  ‘Not their fault, I suppose.’ Ruby stared after the brothers. A lantern swung as the chaise rolled away in front of her and Grace as they walked home.

  ‘What isn’t? Who?’

  ‘Newmarch brothers! They can’t help being rich any more than we can help being poor.’

  ‘No,’ Grace agreed. ‘It all depends on where you were born and who your parents are. It’s funny,’ she considered. ‘I never felt poor until I went on short time. Then my da did too and now Ma has had to take today off cos of her back. She couldn’t get out of bed this morning, so she’ll lose a day’s wages. We allus had sufficient money before, enough for ’rent, enough for food.’ She frowned. ‘And now we haven’t.’

  ‘I couldn’t pay ’rent man yesterday,’ Ruby admitted. ‘I pretended I wasn’t in and let him knock. What are we going to do, Grace?’ She started to weep. ‘I don’t know what to do!’

  Grace shook her head. She felt numb. Her ma and da had always looked after their finances and maybe they had had worries and not told her, but now everything was going wrong. And not just for her family and Ruby, but everyone they knew. Daniel was talking about giving up his apprenticeship because his parents had spent all of their money, at least Mr Hanson had. Mrs Peck’s sow had died after giving birth to six dead piglets and someone had stolen her hens when she was out. The Blake family who had lived in Bessie Robson’s loft had come down after the big storm and were now living on the landing, rent-free.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ she said suddenly. ‘It’s just not fair! Surely somebody can help us? The weavers and spinners get a bit of support when they come out of work, they’ve got a union or something. But we get nothing! Even ’vagrant office won’t help us, not if we’ve got a roof over our heads. We’ve got to be really destitute before they’ll give us as much as a loaf of bread!’ Her face flushed and her eyes flashed. ‘It’s just not fair!’

  Ruby stared at her, then gave a surprised gasp. ‘Heavens, Grace! I’ve never seen you in such a state afore. It’s allus me that gets into a temper, not you!’

  ‘I know,’ she said fiercely. ‘But I’m that mad! Something should be done, Ruby. We’re flesh and blood, we feel hungry – and cold in winter! Should we go barefoot because we can’t afford to buy a pair o’ boots? God helps them who help themselves, have you heard that? It’s what my da is allus saying. Well, what I want to know is, how can we help ourselves when we’re so far down we can’t get up? All we want is a chance to work, to earn money to pay our rent and buy food.’

  She pointed down the road where the chaise carrying the Newmarch brothers had now disappeared into the darkness. ‘We don’t ask for riches to buy a carriage or fancy clothes, we just want enough to keep us from ’workhouse door!’

  Ruby wiped away her tears and gave a watery grin. ‘I’ll get you a soapbox, Gracie, and you can go to Dock Green on Sunday with ’other agitators.’

  Grace stopped and took hold of Ruby’s arm. ‘I’m not an agitator! But I think I’ve been asleep and I’ve just woken up.’ She stared at her friend. ‘I want my rights! How can I get them?’

  ‘Rights!’ Ruby shook back her hair and gave a shout of derision. ‘Rights! We’re sixteen, Grace, and we’re women. We have no rights!’

  ‘There has to be something.’ Grace’s fingers pinched Ruby’s arm in her fervour and she winced.

  ‘Ow!’ Ruby shook Grace’s hand off. ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ she said. ‘Heaven knows I’ve been begging at ’vagrant office often enough and I’ve been to ’Guardians and there’s nowt for such as us, onny ’workhouse if things get too bad, and we’ve been in there, my ma and me, onny I don’t remember much about that, thank God.’

  ‘Well, maybe I will go to Dock Green next Sunday,’ Grace pronounced. ‘I’d like to know what other folks think.’

  Ruby didn’t answer. Across the street, coming out of their alley, was Nell, Jamie’s mother. She stopped for a moment beneath the street lamp and Ruby saw that she was wearing a warm cloak, and beneath it the hem of a red dress flounced provocatively. Behind her came Jamie. He spotted the two girls and gave a cheery wave. He was wearing a heavy topcoat and had a muffler around his neck.

  Ruby shivered and pulled her shawl closer about her. Winter was almost upon them. The fog was drifting in from the river and the air felt dank and cold. She would sleep in all of her clothes tonight to try and keep warm. She hung back and watched Jamie and Nell until they turned at the corner of the street.

  ‘Trouble is, Grace,’ she murmured, following her friend down the narrow dark passage towards home, ‘we’re in ’wrong sort of job.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Ruby came down the stairs the next morning and found Mrs Peck’s door wide open. Mr and Mrs Peck, the children and the dog were gathered outside in the court, with their few belongings stacked onto a rickety old handcart.

/>   ‘Say goodbye to your ma for me,’ Mrs Peck said to Ruby. ‘We’re off back to ’country.’

  ‘Oh!’ Ruby glanced from her to Mr Peck, who stared at her but didn’t speak. ‘Will it be better there? I thought there wasn’t any work!’

  ‘There isn’t,’ replied Mrs Peck. ‘But if we’re going to starve then we’d rather starve among our own folk, than here in Hull.’

  ‘Will you find somewhere to live?’

  Mrs Peck shook her head. ‘Mebbe not. Hedge bottom more’n likely, but we’ll throw ourselves onto ’mercy of ’parish until ’summer and then Mr Peck’ll get work harvesting.’

  Mr Peck pushed his cap to the back of his head. ‘Aye,’ he nodded, and Ruby realized that that was the first word she had ever heard him utter.

  ‘Good luck, then,’ she said and watched as they went in procession out of the court and towards the alley.

  Mrs Peck stopped and turned around. ‘If you see ’rent man,’ she called, ‘tell him to tell ’landlord we’re sorry about arrears. We’d have paid if we could.’

  Ruby raised her hand in reply. ‘I’ll tell him,’ she muttered. ‘If I see him, which I hope I won’t.’

  She went back inside and looked around the newly vacated room. It was completely empty, but swept clean. Mrs Peck was or had been a good housekeeper – even the hearth was swept clear of ash.

  ‘Mmm,’ Ruby pondered and stared hard at the empty hearth, then on a sudden impulse hurried out of doors again, past Grace’s house where it had been her intention to call, for she and Grace were not working today, up the alley, through the other court and out into the street towards the banks of the river Hull. She returned half an hour later with her arms full of driftwood and twigs and a precious piece of coal which she had found in the middle of the road. Several people had seen it fall off a coal waggon and there was a sudden rush forward, but Ruby had sprinted past the others, the first to reach the precious black nugget, scooped it up and victoriously dropped it into her pocket.