Believing in tomorrow, p.11
Believing in Tomorrow, page 11
‘It’s not just here in England where women are treated so unfairly, it’s all over the world. Look at India, for example. They talk about “the land of hope and glory” spanning the globe, but to my mind it’s the men who bask in the glory and the women can merely hope things improve for them. There they don’t even regard women as important enough for census purposes,’ Molly had said indignantly during one somewhat heated discussion. ‘And women being urged to shun netball and the rougher sports here is rubbish. Those university types who come out with such drivel ought to spend a day at the factory or on the quays and see what women do.’
Ruth had smiled at her passion. ‘It’s the way things are,’ she’d said with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘And I for one wouldn’t want to dash about trying to grab a ball in a most ungainly fashion.’
‘Neither would I as it happens, but we ought to be able to do so if we want without being labelled unladylike and mannish. Finland have got it right at last, giving women the vote and even electing them into the Finnish parliament. That ought to add credence to the suffragettes’ campaign in countries like here and America.’
Ruth had shaken her head. ‘It might work the other way if men think that by giving the vote to women they’ll end up in government.’
Molly had literally stamped her foot in frustration. ‘How can you be so accepting of such wrongs?’
‘Because I’m not like you and I don’t look on it as wrong. I wouldn’t want to worry myself about who to vote for,’ Ruth had said with such serenity that Molly wanted to shake her. ‘And why I ever taught you to read I don’t know,’ Ruth added with a grin to soften her words. ‘I had no idea you were such a tigress under that pretty exterior.’
It had been one of many such conversations which both women secretly very much enjoyed and looked forward to, and Molly was thinking of that now as she stared at her friend. It was a sunny Sunday in late August and outside the weather was hot and sticky, but Ruth’s front room was its normal oasis of cool calm which mirrored its owner’s personality.
‘You’re going to do what?’ Molly asked, wondering if she’d heard what Ruth had just said correctly. They were sitting having a cup of tea and in the kitchen Sunday lunch was in the range.
‘I’m going to get married.’
‘To – to Ivor?’
‘Of course to Ivor.’
The foreman’s wife had died in the New Year and Molly was one of the few people who knew that Ruth had been walking out with him the last month or so.
‘But . . .’ Molly was floundering and it showed.
Taking pity on her, Ruth said quietly, ‘I know, I know, it’s too soon after Prudence’s passing, but he asked me and I said yes. We know what people’ll say and for that reason he’s transferring to Mr Irvin’s Aberdeen branch and I shall go with him as his wife. We’re getting married as soon as we can before we leave.’
Recovering herself, Molly said, ‘Oh, I’m happy for you, I am, but I’m going to miss you so much,’ and as she said the words she realized how true they were. Ruth had been more than a friend the last five years: mother, sister, confidante and teacher, she owed her so much. She got on well with all the girls in the house and the twins had become dear friends but nothing compared to her relationship with Ruth. And Aberdeen, it was so far away. She would never see her again. But she couldn’t focus on that, she had to be glad for her.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ Ruth said softly, aware of some of what was going on in Molly’s mind. ‘But Ivor wants a fresh start. Last year when Prudence got worse was so hard on him and he wants a normal life, he wants to be married,’ she added with a tinge of pink to her cheeks. ‘But there’ll be talk, you know what folk are like. They’ll say we were carrying on when his wife was alive and getting married so quickly will only confirm that. We weren’t, of course, but that’ll make no difference.’
Molly nodded. She knew that was true. Gossip provided spice in people’s otherwise humdrum lives and the factory was no different to anywhere else. It didn’t matter if what was whispered and chewed over was true or not; folk would cheerfully rip another person to pieces with their tongues and all under a cloak of righteous respectability.
‘Ivor would like a family and so would I before it’s too late,’ Ruth went on, ‘but here any bairns would be brought up under a cloud of scandal because we didn’t wait for three or four years before we got together. Aberdeen is far enough away for us to be just another married couple.’ Ruth put her hand over Molly’s. ‘I would have liked to stay here with you and the others close by, but you do understand, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do.’ Molly hugged her. ‘And you’re doing the right thing. You both deserve to be happy, lass.’ Ruth had told her of the harrowing life Ivor had led for years, working hard at the factory and then going home to work even harder caring for his wife. He had paid a neighbour to pop in several times a day while he was at work, but it had been him who had done the housework, got the meals and washed Prudence’s bedding every day, as she had been doubly incontinent after her tragic accident when they had only been wed a matter of weeks. He had had to do everything for her and he had done it gladly, Ruth had told her, because he’d loved his wife, but it had aged him beyond his years. Molly had been surprised to know that Ivor was only ten years older than Ruth; he looked double that at least. And Ruth’s life had been far from a bowl of cherries too. She hugged her again as she said, ‘You’ll write to me when you go, won’t you? We will keep in touch?’
‘Always.’
They continued to chat but Molly’s mind was only half on their conversation. Ruth and this room had been a haven for her but now that was coming to an end. She’d really only gone upstairs to sleep; the rest of the time she’d spent with Ruth.
From her first day at the fish factory she’d been determined to save every penny she could. It was the reason she’d never aspired to renting her own room like Ruth, even though she now earned six shillings a week. The other girls apart from Ruth liked to be out and about in their leisure time, going for walks through the town arm in arm and visiting the picture houses and inns. This was mostly in the hope of catching a lad’s eye and even the twins were worldly wise and free with their favours.
Molly was aware the fish factory lassies had a bad reputation but that didn’t bother her. The factory paid well and that was the important thing. Money was the key to one day making a future for herself away from the town but as yet she wasn’t sure where she would go or what she would do. She just knew she would make it happen.
Later that night she lay wide awake in bed, mulling things over. The nest egg under her mattress now amounted to nearly thirty pounds. It seemed like a small fortune but it would only stretch so far once she wasn’t earning a good wage. She had barely bought any clothes in the last years so if she left North Shields for pastures new she would need a new wardrobe among other things. She intended to pass herself off as a respectable young woman from a good family who needed to earn her own living through no fault of her own, but that was as far as her plans had gone thus far. Now it was time to start thinking about the future more seriously.
After another couple of hours of imagining one scenario after another, she came to the conclusion that she was panicking unnecessarily. After all, Ruth hadn’t even gone yet. For the time being she needn’t rush to make any decisions. Even after Ruth had left there would be no hurry. She could continue at the factory and nothing would really change. Immediately the last thought mocked her. Everything would change without Ruth and the sanctuary her friend’s room had been.
A day at a time. She could almost hear Enid’s voice as the thought came. It had been one of Matthew’s mam’s favourite sayings. She was trying to cross all her bridges tonight and that was silly. Looking on the bright side, she was in a much better position than when she’d left the hamlet or even the house in Beacon Street. She could read and write now, and had broadened her mind far beyond what she could have imagined five years ago. She had a good grasp of current affairs and politics and she and Ruth had delved into history and science and all manner of subjects, along with having elocution lessons with a local gentlewoman to improve their diction and the way they spoke generally. The other girls had been tickled pink by this, even standing outside Ruth’s door when they were practising at home and then mimicking them unmercifully.
‘All that learning and talking proper isn’t going to help you meet a lad and get wed, lass,’ the twins had said on numerous occasions when the three of them were ensconced in their bedroom. ‘You’ll end up an old maid like Ruth and you so bonny. You want to live a little, enjoy yourself before you’re too old.’
She’d just smiled and said she was happy the way things were. There was no real malice in any of the girls although even then she’d known she didn’t want to end up like Ruth, truth be told. She wanted to do something with her life but that didn’t mean marrying a lad and having one bairn after another. She wasn’t like the other girls, she knew that. Not even Ruth. She was a square peg in a round hole, she supposed. She didn’t really feel she fitted in anywhere and sometimes, in spite of Ruth’s friendship, she felt so lonely.
Go to sleep, she told herself silently. You’re thinking too much. And then another of Enid’s sayings popped into her mind. ‘Tomorrow is another day and only the good Lord knows where He’ll lead you.’
‘That’s all very well, Enid,’ she whispered into her pillow as Maggie and Tilly’s snores echoed in the room, ‘but couldn’t you ask Him to give me a bit of a clue just this once?’
Chapter Twelve
It was two months since Ruth had told her about her forthcoming marriage and a month since it had occurred, after which her friend and Ivor had disappeared to Aberdeen, but it could have been two years – two decades – as far as Molly was concerned. So much had changed, and not just because Ruth was no longer around. Ruth had sold her belongings and now three girls from the factory were squeezed into what had been her room; suddenly the house where Molly had lived for five years was no longer somewhere she wanted to be. After returning home from the factory and eating dinner with the other girls each evening she would either stay in the warmth of the kitchen for as long as possible before going upstairs to her dismal room, or if the weather was clement she would wrap up and take a walk by herself. Her housemates had all tried to persuade her to go out with them, and she had done so once or twice if they were going to the picture house or looking round the shops, but mostly they spent time in the public houses chatting to lads and she wasn’t interested in doing that.
Things were very different at the factory too. The foreman who had replaced Ivor was a younger man of around thirty who was unable to keep his hands to himself. Most of the girls laughed and giggled with him and didn’t seem to mind, and a couple had apparently seen him after work and got up to all sorts, but Molly found him objectionable. Working with so many women, he clearly thought he was God’s gift to the female sex even though he was no oil painting, and his arrogance grated on her. Perhaps because she was one of the few who didn’t flirt with him he seemed to have targeted her more and more for his unwanted attentions. One of the older women had taken over Ruth’s job but she was clearly so pleased with the promotion that she didn’t want to endanger it by taking the foreman’s conduct to a higher authority as Ruth would have done, merely turning a blind eye to his behaviour.
It was in the second week of November that things came to a head. Just before the whistle had blown, Mrs Casey, Ruth’s replacement, had asked Molly to fetch one of the wheeled stands holding stocks of empty cans ready for the morning, and by the time she had returned with it the factory was practically empty. She put the cans in their assigned place, but as she turned to make her way out of the factory the foreman, Mr Kirby, stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
She stepped back a pace and as she did so, he smiled. ‘Well, if it isn’t Lady Muck all on her own,’ he drawled softly. ‘The nobody who thinks she’s somebody. That’s right, isn’t it?’
Molly stared at him, her voice cool when she said, ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mr Kirby.’
‘No?’ He glanced about him. The last few workers had walked out of the door some distance away. Emboldened, he took a step towards her, causing her again to retreat. ‘I think you know exactly what I mean. Think yourself too good for the lads round here, don’t you? I know all about you.’
‘I doubt that, Mr Kirby.’
‘See, that’s what I mean. Hoity-toity. Well, it don’t wash with me.’
‘Would you move out of the way so I can leave, please.’
‘And what will you do if I don’t?’
There was a knot of fear in her stomach now but she was determined not to show it. ‘It’s gone six and I’m entitled to leave.’
‘I bet you’re one of these unnatural types, these suffragettes, aren’t you, eh? Men-haters?’ His heavy-lidded eyes were running all over her and his wet tongue flicked over his lips in a quick, snake-like movement.
Molly repressed a shudder. ‘I don’t think it’s any of your business. I am employed here to do a job of work and I’ve had no complaints thus far.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you, being in with Duffy’s bit on the side, but they’ve moved off to pastures new and I’m the one you have to please now.’ This was an itch he’d wanted to scratch from day one. It wasn’t just that she was a bonny piece, it was her aloofness, her way of talking and looking at you, everything about her that had got to him. And what was she, after all? Factory scum. But unlike the rest of them she didn’t seem to realize he had the power to throw her out on her ear if she wasn’t nice to him.
‘If you’ve a problem with my work—’
‘Aye, I have.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Come into my office and we’ll talk there.’
There was no way she was going into his office. More than one girl had come out looking dishevelled and flushed, and last week Audrey had been crying when she’d emerged. When they’d tried to make her say what had happened she wouldn’t be drawn, though. It was common knowledge her da had broken his back in a fall at the docks and she and her brother supported their parents and four younger siblings. She’d do nothing to endanger her job.
‘I don’t think so, Mr Kirby. Anything you’ve got to say to me you can say here.’
There it was again, the uppityness of her. ‘You’ve got this all wrong, m’girl,’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘I tell you what to do, all right?’
She wasn’t going to take any more of this. It was a Saturday night and her wage packet was in her pocket; she had nothing to lose by walking out right now. Perhaps this was the spur she’d been waiting for? ‘Not from today, Mr Kirby. I don’t need this job that badly. I’m leaving as of now.’
His expression of total amazement would have been funny in any other circumstances, but in the next moment he recovered himself. He caught hold of her arms, glaring at her as he hissed, ‘You need teaching a lesson, m’girl. You won’t be so high and mighty when I’ve finished with you. An’ if you go telling tales it’ll be my word against yours, remember that, an’ who’s going to believe scum like you over me?’
It was as she heard someone call her name from the other end of the factory that she reacted instinctively, bringing one knee up with all the force she could muster into Kirby’s groin. The scream he uttered could have come from a woman, so high-pitched was it, and as he collapsed to the floor, his hands between his legs, she heard running footsteps behind her and turned to see Maggie and Tilly and another girl from the house, their shocked faces speaking for themselves.
‘He – he tried to . . .’
‘I think we know what he tried, lass. Dirty beggar.’ Maggie looked at the man still rolling about on the floor, his face screwed up with pain and anguished moans coming from his contorted mouth. ‘He’s had this coming.’
Tilly took her arm. ‘Come away, lass. You’ve taught him a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry.’
They left him where he was as they hurried out of the factory, the twins on either side of her and Elsie, the other girl, making up the rear. It was Elsie who said, ‘We were waiting for you so we could all walk home together, lass. We thought you’d been a while so we came to see what was what.’
‘He wanted me to go into his office with him.’
Maggie snorted. ‘I bet he did.’
It was sleeting as they walked out into the bitterly cold November day but the waterfront was as busy as ever. ‘I’ve told Kirby I’m not coming back. I’ve had enough.’
They stopped walking and the others stared at her in concern. Maggie clicked her tongue. ‘You shouldn’t have done that, Moll. What’ll you do? Look, we’ll all back you and say what happened.’
Molly shook her head. ‘It’d be my word against his in the final count, and guess who they’ll believe? Anyway, my card would be marked whatever happened, you know that as well as me. Management sticks together. I wouldn’t want you lot to lose your jobs if Kirby turned nasty – which he would.’
‘But what’ll you do?’ Maggie said again.
Molly shrugged. ‘I’m not sure but I’m ready for a change. I’ve got a bit saved and I’ve a mind to go somewhere different, leave North Shields altogether. I’m sick of fish,’ she finished with a somewhat shaky grin. The incident with Kirby had frightened her and brought home just what some folk thought about the lassies who worked at the fish factory. Easy game. Up for anything. She’d heard such phrases bandied about before.
‘Don’t decide anything in a hurry – sleep on it.’ Tilly squeezed her arm.
She didn’t need to. When she had walked out of the factory she’d known she wouldn’t be coming back. And she didn’t want another factory job somewhere either. She couldn’t tell the others because they would think she was an upstart, and maybe they were right, but she wanted something better. It was time to do something rather than just thinking about it.
