The flour mill girls, p.6
The Flour Mill Girls, page 6
‘I wish with the whole of my heart that those whom we’ve waved off today all come back to us soon, each one safe and sound,’ Daisy mouthed fervently to herself in atonement.
She looked around her as she found herself shivering, despite the hot weather, and could see through the gauzy thin weave of her blouse that her arms had goosebumped with a sudden and unpleasant chill.
It seemed her very bones knew already that the shortening days of summer, although spiked with patriotic optimism, were but a prelude to more serious business about to take over their lives.
Next
Chapter Seven
Those next few weeks, the absence of the men who had gone to fight was cruelly felt by those left in Crumford. People didn’t say so exactly, but everyone regarded everyone else with sympathy as they were all pretty much in the same boat.
It seemed as if a cold wind was blowing through the familiar streets and Old Creaky too. The weather was sunny still, but this seemed a travesty, being far too cheerful-seeming for the jittery mood of the town.
All three Graham girls, as well as Olive, and Cynthia too, had to help Jared in the mill, and pull together to try and keep the bakery and the tea room in business.
Small jobs in the mill were even found for Tansy and Senna, usually weighing flour into small cotton sacks for the farmers that wanted it made ready for shops.
At first they all found this new routine exhausting.
‘I can’t ever remember feeling so weary,’ said Violet one evening as they were all eating their dinner after a long day of physical toil.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
‘I suppose in part it’s the worry over what will happen,’ Daisy replied, ‘as we’re just not used to it. And we’re not used to going to bed tired, and then waking up weary, knowing that all we’ve got to look forward to is more of the same the next day.’
‘Oh come on, let’s show a bit of backbone!’ cried Holly, always the most boisterous of the girls. ‘We’ll get used to it. We’ll have to. And then it won’t seem so bad, I’m sure. Eventually Father won’t mind us chivvying him around, and soon we’ll know the best way of doing things. Don’t you agree, Mother?’
Cynthia looked at Holly. ‘Well, I hope you’re right, Holly. I do think we’ll get used to working more, but I doubt it will ever seem normal not having Clem and Asa here with us.’
‘I think Holly’s right and that we should be as positive as we can,’ said Olive. ‘I know it’s difficult, but we’re not going to do anybody any favours if we remain resolutely down in the dumps. Everyone is missing their old lives, but Asa and Clem and all the others wouldn’t want those of us back in Crumford to wallow in the pain of their absence, would they?’
The conversation moved on to other things, but what had been said set Daisy thinking. It was easy to fall into the doldrums, especially as everyone in the land felt uneasy and fearful, but this wasn’t a helpful attitude.
Daisy decided that from this point on she would try to seek out the good things, and not dwell too much on what was upsetting. And, being the eldest Graham child at home, she would try to lead the others by example. It might not always be easy to do this, but she would try her best.
Despite their long hours, the Grahams at Old Creaky knew that they were fortunate compared to many other families in the area, as some harvests had been left rotting where they grew since so many farm labourers had signed up. There wasn’t a subsequent drop-off in turnover in the mill’s business, as they had some new customers from further away.
It wasn’t long before summer was in the process of surrendering abruptly to the crisper, shorter days of early autumn, and one afternoon it took Daisy four or five attempts until she was completely happy with what she had written in her letter.
She found it devilishly hard to strike the right balance between making sure she gave Ren a get-out (should he require one), but also being inviting enough at the same time as being not unpleasantly soppy.
Daisy had hoped that Ren would have written to her off his own bat by now, but he hadn’t.
She told herself not to allow her feelings to be hurt, as training must be keeping the lads busy. Asa had sent only two very basic letters home, and Clem hadn’t sent anything at all – and that was in spite of his wife’s interesting condition.
Daisy hoped that the fact she had waited long enough before putting pen to paper demonstrated to Ren she wasn’t a clingy sort of person, nor one who was reading too much into their situation.
And now she had something concrete to ask him, a genuine request, so she’d thought it a good time to write. She wanted Ren and his brothers to take photographs for Basil. Daisy had noticed how upset he had been at the sight of all three of his sons going off to war, and was trying to find ways to help him feel less isolated and alone.
All the same, to get herself into the right frame of mind for writing her letter to Ren, after her first woefully poor start had had to be abandoned at only four or five lines in, Daisy distracted herself by scribbling notes to Asa and Clem suggesting that they also should have pictures taken to send to Joy and Marguerite, and Cynthia and Jared.
Daisy knew that photographs of her brothers in uniform would be deeply treasured by the Graham family, and although she was sure that Asa and Clem would be very busy, she hoped they would take note of her suggestion.
At last she felt equal to the challenge of writing her final version of Ren’s letter.
Graham Mill
Crumford
Dearest Ren,
I hope you don’t mind me contacting you so soon after those of us you’ve left behind stood on the station side by side and waved you all away on your adventures. What a wonderful sight – so moving and truly patriotic. We are so proud of our young men of Crumford, and were honoured to be part of such a joyous moment in our town and families’ histories.
However, it wasn’t long before I was thinking, as Old Creaky beckoned us homewards, that before you left I should have asked you if you cared for me writing to you.
Naturally, if you have no free time or you don’t think it appropriate, I shall understand, and it will be the end of the matter with no feelings hurt.
Regardless of your answer to that, though, I have a request I would be most obliged if you could think seriously about.
Seeing how upset your father was after you three Brewers had departed, I felt I should write to tell you that it might be a nice idea if, should the opportunity arise, you could organise a photograph of you and your brothers all in your uniforms, perhaps even on your parade ground, to be sent to him so that Mr Brewer would feel for an instant as if he were there with you.
If you also each had photographs taken of you individually, I know I would like to have one of you, should you want me to have it, and I think so would Violet and Holly too if you asked Alder and Rosen to send photographs to them.
Perhaps we could even send back small photographs of ourselves?
Anyway, I enclose a clipping from the local newspaper that has a story and also a photograph that shows your train leaving. If you look closely at the windows you can just about make out yourself and your brothers, and of course our own Asa and Clem.
You won’t be surprised that there’s not much other news here, aside that it was my birthday yesterday, and Violet’s too – we are now the grand age of twenty and nineteen. Crumford has never been big at news, and it’s certainly not beside itself over our celebrations.
No parties of course, as we’re all so distracted now with much more important things, but Cynthia stood in for me for the first couple of hours in the tea room yesterday, and Holly managed on her own at the bakery, so that Violet and I could have an extra hour or two in bed – it might not sound like much, but we agreed last night that our lie-ins felt like a treat of the first order and were an excellent birthday gift indeed.
We’re all feeling a little more tired than usual, as aside from what we usually do, we’re all having to muck in to help Father in the mill (even the twins – and their birthday party seems a long time ago now, does it not?), while your own papa is also teaching Holly all about proper double-entry book-keeping in order that she can spend a few hours over at the office at yours in Alder’s place helping keep the Brewer’s accounts shipshape, and of course the experience she gets there will help us too. She cycles over there every day, looking very grown up and as if she is a woman about town.
Violet is finding herself very busy too, as some of the local ladies are now forming themselves into various committees aimed at helping behind the scenes, and are not doing as much of their own cooking as previously, so even though we don’t have the number of menfolk here we’re used to, Violet is finding demand for her loaves has risen, and the use of her roasting ovens, even though she had expected to be less busy.
Incidentally, you might be amused to know that Holly tells us that your father isn’t much liking training up the last batch of summer workers down from London. They’re all women or youngsters still wet behind the ears, with not an ounce of gumption between them apparently – and that’s when he’s being nice about them!
To be honest, Mother is equally disparaging about the general workers that the farmers we deal with at the mill are having to make do with (probably because Mother had to reload a cart herself the day before yesterday after one of the temporary workers managed to rip the sack and quite a lot of the flour inside got spilled – Father said he didn’t realise he was married to a woman who can swear like a navvy!).
I hear on the grapevine too that the Betteshanger mining company is having difficulty as well since they’ve lost many of their men to volunteering, even though mining is a key industry – they are trying to pull miners out of retirement, but many have various stages of emphysema and so although they are all keen to do their bit, sadly few of the returning miners are able to complete a full day’s work.
So let’s hope this war is over soon, although not before you chaps have seen just a little bit of action, as it would be a shame for you to go through all your training and then not have the chance to take a potshot or two.
At home we’ve all got our fingers crossed for an end by Christmas, as the powers-that-be are promising – just think of the riotous celebrations there will be if you all arrive home on Christmas Eve!
Still, to tide us over until then I think we’re going to have to find a strong man from somewhere to help out in the mill, and I am pretty sure your pa will be thinking similarly. Goodness knows where we’ll find these men, but I’m really hoping they won’t have already volunteered.
I will close now, and I am hoping all is well with you meanwhile, Ren, and that you are enjoying your training – we all talk about you often, and the japes you Brewers are probably up to, very likely leading our Asa and Clem into bad ways. I hope that’s the case anyway, and not the other way around!
Do let me know if there is anything you’d like me to send you. And by the time you write back, I think the twins may have wheedled out of us quite what Mother said over the split sack that shocked Father so . . .
Sincerely yours,
Daisy Graham, Miss
As she arrived back from posting the letters to Ren and her brothers, Daisy heard raised voices.
Immediately she felt a rush of worry.
But after a moment she realised that her mother’s shouted words sounded furious rather than distraught, and although Cynthia could be sharp, she was rarely roused to anger in the manner that she clearly was at this moment.
Daisy’s interest was piqued, and she couldn’t stop herself going to see what was happening.
It wasn’t what she expected.
‘Olive! This is simply dreadful news. It’s extremely misguided of you, and I cannot believe you have just said what you have. Indeed you cannot mean this. It must be a horrible joke at our expense.’ Cynthia’s voice was caustic in the extreme, and very loud.
‘I’m afraid I am most serious, Aunt Cynthia.’ Olive sounded much calmer, if a little clipped.
‘Well, I tell you right now, young lady, that it’s just not going to happen,’ insisted Cynthia.
It was teatime and Cynthia was standing stock-still in the kitchen, with the tea caddy poised in her hand, Daisy saw, as she walked through the back door.
Olive, who was usually the most easy-going of souls, was standing in a manner most resolute and as if she were really digging her toes in about something.
Daisy thought this was incredibly unlike her as Olive was the sort of person who was usually very amenable to what other people wanted. Right from when she had very first arrived in the Graham household, she had displayed a real knack for dealing harmoniously with Cynthia, and so Daisy found it perturbing to think that Olive’s usual affability was clearly going by the by.
She was eyeing her aunt with daggers as she exhaled an audible sharp huff through her nose.
Still, it wasn’t this that took Daisy most aback, but instead Cynthia’s response, which was to back off.
Daisy had never seen the like before, and it was almost as if her mother wasn’t quite as certain of laying down the law as she normally was.
And if Cynthia, who was usually so sure of herself, felt uncertain, then what could this mean for the rest of them?
Daisy couldn’t convince herself that it boded well for anybody.
This didn’t mean though that Cynthia’s eyes weren’t furiously boring back at Olive’s as the two women stood mirroring each other with their legs apart and their hands on their hips as they tried to stare each other out. Cynthia then attempted to up the ante with a small but firm shake of her head to winch up the sense of ‘no’ exuding from her.
Olive’s expression darkened and she blinked slowly, her face screwing up briefly.
When she opened her eyes, her chin was jutting in confrontation, and it was clear that she was regarding Cynthia with what was now real bad temper, rather shocking Daisy.
Cynthia snapped at Olive in response, ‘My dear sister – your sainted mother Iris, Olive, should you be forgetting – would be turning in her grave if she thought for a second that any one of us here would condone something like this.’
‘Frankly, Aunt Cynthia—’ began Olive, two high spots of colour springing to her cheeks and her voice insistent as well as quite a bit higher now.
‘What on earth does Olive want to do?’ interrupted Daisy, who couldn’t imagine a single thing that could merit a squabble like this.
‘This discussion is pure bunkum, and irrelevant, Aunt Cynthia. It’s not simply a question of me wanting to do this,’ said Olive very firmly, completely ignoring Daisy. ‘It’s that I am going to do, whether I have the Graham family seal of approval or not.’
Jared, who had been standing in the passage doorway watching proceedings, opened his mouth as if he were going to chip in with his two ha’p’orth.
But Cynthia halted her husband in his tracks with a flick of the palm of her hand held up close to his face for a few seconds, clearly determined to have her say. ‘Olive, what you want will happen over my dead body, make no mistake about that. You simply must reconsid—’
But Olive didn’t wait for Cynthia to finish, and nor was she paying any heed to the idea of her aunt’s deceased corpse. ‘We’ll never know what my mother would have thought about this, will we?’ Olive pointed out over the top of what her aunt was saying. ‘But if I take after my mother in any way, I like to think she’d have been behind me, and that she would find your feelings on the matter to be antiquated, unpleasant and nothing more than mere poppycock. I’ve thought about this for weeks and I know that it’s what I must do.’
‘What’s perfect? What must you do, Olive?’ shrieked Daisy, the suspense of not knowing what was going on getting too much.
Cynthia sighed angrily, and gave a little stamp of a foot.
Olive paid no attention, instead taking a moment to breathe deeply to calm herself before saying in a much more conciliatory tone in her cousin’s direction, ‘What all this fuss is about is that I intend to train as a nurse, Daisy, with a view to going to the front, should we still be at war by the time I can actually be useful. And if I can’t go to the front in time, then I am sure there will be other nursing opportunities for me looking after wounded servicemen upon their return.’
‘What a splendid idea,’ blurted Daisy, the words out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
Olive’s daring intention was so heady that Daisy couldn’t help but feel a prick of jealousy at the same time as feeling delighted and thrilled in the wake of her cousin’s boldness.
It was too late now to placate Cynthia though, who was angrily swiping at a smut from the oven that was on the back of her hand, and so Daisy reasoned that she might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb.
‘Dearest Olive, I simply can’t think of anyone more likely to be a wonderful nurse in difficult circumstances than you. How proud we shall all be,’ Daisy dared. And she thought just for a second that she glimpsed an approving expression on her father’s face before it quickly reverted to one that was unlikely to further fuel the flames of his wife’s ire.
‘Tsk!’ snorted Cynthia, sharply turning her head to glare furiously towards her eldest daughter.
Daisy held her mother’s eye as she did very much stand by what she had just said, and to her surprise it was Cynthia who buckled and was the first to look away.
This rattled Daisy, as it had never happened before.
Her first instinct was to immediately apologise to her mother, but something held her back, as even though Daisy understood Cynthia’s point of view, she just couldn’t support it.
She knew that in her mother’s eyes it was perfectly all right for the Graham girls to take up positions within the confines of the family business as she, Violet and Holly already had. But these were stop-gap fillers contingent on being only relatively short-term, as they would end upon their marriages. They were clean and respectable roles, genteel to the core, hefting of the occasional sacks of grain aside.
