Authors: Margaret Dickinson
She jumped up and piled the socks she had been given to darn onto her mother’s lap. ‘I’ll go right now and see the master.’
‘Oh, Meg—’ Sarah began, but her daughter was paying no heed.
She planted a kiss on her mother’s forehead and patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry, Mam. I’ll take care of everything.’
She turned away and was about to hurry across the room when the door was flung open and the man she sought stood there, filling the frame.
‘Good evening, ladies, good evening. And how are we all on this fine night?’
Feet shuffled and chairs scraped as all the women stood up and chorused, ‘Good evening, Master.’ Even Sarah struggled to her feet, the socks spilling from her knee.
‘Sit down, sit down, ladies, do,’ Isaac boomed and glanced around the room. His gaze came to rest on Sarah as she sank back into her chair. Meg bent and retrieved the socks from the
floor.
Isaac pulled up a chair and sat down beside Sarah.
‘Sir,’ Meg began, ‘I was just coming to see you. Please – may I have your permission to go out again on Monday?’
‘Ah, well now, I don’t know about that. We can’t have you going out too often, Kirkland. Your poor mother needs you here.’ He took hold of Sarah’s hand and held
it.
Meg was sure she heard stifled laughter from the women behind her, but the girl was too intent on her goal to worry about it at the moment. ‘Matron has given me the name of someone who
might give me a job.’
Isaac turned his watery blue eyes on Sarah. ‘What do you say, my dear?’ he asked smoothly, still holding her hand. ‘Shall we let her go, eh?’
‘If you please, sir,’ Sarah said softly, ‘I’d be very grateful. Meg is a good girl and is only trying to look after us.’
Isaac started back, pretending shock. ‘Oh, my dear lady, you wound me deeply. Don’t you think that is what we’re trying to do here? To look after you?’
Sarah lowered her head and said huskily, ‘Yes, yes, of course, I didn’t mean . . .’
Isaac patted her hand and laughed. ‘No, no, of course, you didn’t. I was only teasing. Of course, she can go.’
Despite the turmoil of the day, Meg rewarded the master with her widest smile, which lit up her green eyes and dimpled her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Master.’
The master gazed at her and, as she dipped a curtsy and moved towards the door, Isaac murmured, ‘By, but she’ll be a beauty one day and no mistake.’
Hearing him, the girl’s mother shuddered.
After supper most of the women, weary from their day’s work, began to drift up to the dormitory.
‘I’ll just get some more coal in, Mam,’ Meg said. ‘You go on up. I shan’t be long.’
Carrying the coal bucket, Meg slipped down the stairs and across the yard towards the coal store. It was the one building in the row that stood between the men’s and women’s yards
and was accessible from both. She and Jake had arranged to meet there under cover of darkness.
‘There you are.’ His voice came out of the blackness. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’
‘The master came to the day room and then there was supper. I couldn’t get away.’
‘Like I told you. He likes the women.’
‘He seems to have taken a fancy to me mam. He was sitting beside her, holding her hand.’
‘You want to watch him.’
‘But I thought he was after Miss Daley.’
Jake laughed softly. ‘He’s after owt in skirts. But I don’t reckon he’ll get far with the schoolmarm. She’s sweet on the doctor.’
Meg was thoughtful. ‘Mm. I noticed that.’
Side by side they shovelled coal.
‘Look, we still might get caught meeting here,’ Jake whispered. ‘Next time, let’s meet in the dead room.’
Meg was startled. ‘The what?’
‘It’s a room right at the end of this row of buildings in the men’s yard, where they put the dead ’uns.’ She saw his white, even teeth shining through the gloom as
he grinned. ‘There’s only empty coffins in there.’
Meg shuddered. ‘You sure?’
‘Well, not
all
the time. If someone dies—’
‘Ugh!’
‘But it’s safe. No one’ll go in there.’
‘Don’t blame ’em,’ she muttered, with feeling. She paused and then added, ‘All right then. Anything to save you another thrashing. Did you get into trouble
today?’
‘No, I was lucky. I slipped into the orchard and started working and nobody seemed to have missed me.’
‘Not even Miss Pendleton?’ Meg asked saucily.
She heard his low chuckle. ‘No, though she did say, “I haven’t seen you all day,” at suppertime. Gave me a right scare. I thought she was going to ask where I’d
been. And I can’t lie – specially not to her.’ He leant closer. ‘They reckon the reason she makes such a fuss of the lads is ’cos years ago, when she was a young girl,
she had a baby boy.’
Meg gasped. ‘What? You mean – you mean she wasn’t married?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What happened to it?’
‘Don’t know. Mebbe it died or was taken away from her. You know, adopted.’
‘Or maybe,’ Meg said thoughtfully, ‘it was sent to the workhouse.’
Jake stared at her through the darkness. ‘I’d never thought of that.’
‘So that’s why she loves all the little boys who come in here.’ Meg felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the woman. ‘Poor old Letitia.’
Jake chuckled softly. ‘Daft name, isn’t it? What parents in their right mind would call their daughter “Letitia”?’
Meg was defensive. ‘I think it’s quite a pretty name. Besides, Isaac’s not much better.’
‘Yeah, but his name does suit him. Look, I’ll have to be off. Don’t want to get caught now, seeing as I got away with mi little expedition into the big wide world.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’
He was solemn now. ‘I would have if it hadn’t been for meeting your dad and you being so upset.’
‘Seems mi mam has known about his carryings on for a month or more,’ Meg said bitterly and added incredulously, ‘And she doesn’t seem to blame him.’
‘What? Do you mean she doesn’t
mind
?’
‘Oh, she minds all right, but she said to me, “Don’t blame him, Meg.” I can’t understand her. I really can’t. If I was her, I’d want to kill ’em
both.’ Beneath her breath she muttered, ‘I felt like it anyway.’
There was silence between them for a while, the only sounds the scraping of the metal shovels on the stone floor and the tumbling of pieces of coal into the buckets.
‘Anyway, I’m going out again on Monday. Miss Pendleton’s given me the name of someone who might give me a job.’
‘Well, good luck. Wish I could find one.’
‘Have you spoken to Ron yet?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I – I dunno, really.’
‘Jake,’ Meg said firmly, ‘just do it.’
‘Matron –’ Meg stood before Letitia Pendleton on the Monday morning and adopted her most docile and pleading expression – ‘do you think I could be
allowed to wear my own clothes? Just today. The master has given me permission to go and see Mr Rodwell and – and seeing as he’s a friend of yours, or rather a friend of your friend
– I do want to be a credit to you.’
Letitia laughed and her chins wobbled. ‘I see. Workhouse uniform not good enough for you, eh?’
Meg caught the twinkle in the older woman’s eyes and said coyly, ‘But I scrub floors in these clothes, Matron.’
‘No disgrace in honest hard work.’ Letitia pondered for a moment and then said, ‘Very well, then. See Waters and tell her you have my permission.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. It’s most unusual.’ Ursula pursed her thin lips with disapproval.
‘But matron said I could.’
‘Strikes me you’re trying to hide the fact that you come from the workhouse. Trying to fool a would-be employer into thinking you’re better than you are.’
‘Of course I’m not,’ Meg replied heatedly. ‘Miss Pendleton’s recommended me to go and see this Mr Rodwell. That’s hardly hiding the fact that I’m here,
is it? Ask her, ask the matron if you don’t believe me.’
Ursula sniffed. ‘She’s not here to ask. She’s gone out for the day.’ She made no move to find Meg’s belongings.
‘Well, who would you believe? Mr Pendleton?’ Meg persisted.
‘We mustn’t worry the master about such a matter.’
‘Yes, we must, if you’re not going to let me have them.’ Meg reached out and grabbed hold of Ursula’s thin arm. ‘Come on. We’ll go and see him this very
minute.’
To the older woman’s consternation, she found herself being dragged out of the storeroom, across the men’s yard and into the door leading directly to the master’s office.
‘Kirkland, I don’t think we should—’
‘You should have thought about that before you refused to obey the matron’s orders.’ Meg paused briefly and stuck her face close to Ursula’s. ‘And they
were
her orders.’
‘Oh well, in that case—’
‘No, no. Too late now. We’ll ask the master and we’ll do what he says. Whatever it is.’ Meg had already raised her hand to knock on the door, but now Ursula reached up
and grasped hold of it.
‘No – please – don’t. I don’t want to cause trouble.’
‘You don’t want to cause trouble for yourself, you mean. You couldn’t care less about me. But I bet you’ve suddenly realized that the master – new though I am here
– will take my side.’
Suddenly, Ursula’s face twisted into ugliness. ‘Of course he will. He can’t resist a pretty face. Well, let me tell you something. When I first came here, I was young and
pretty too. Oh yes, you can hardly believe it, can you? Well, it’s true. And he couldn’t resist
me
. But now I’m older, he’s cast me aside and he’s after the
younger ones.’ Now it was Ursula who hissed in Meg’s face. ‘You want to watch out for yourself else you’ll end up like me. But why should I care? I’ll get you your
clothes and much good may they do you.’
She twisted her arm out of Meg’s grasp and went back the way they had come, with Meg following her more slowly.
It felt wonderful to Meg to be dressed in her own clothes again; to feel soft underwear against her skin instead of the rough, scratchy garments the workhouse provided.
She’d lost weight since coming here and her dress hung loosely on her, but beneath her shawl it didn’t show too badly. The clothes had been crumpled when Ursula handed them to her, but
the use of a hot iron in the wash house had made them look much better.
Meg paused at the porter’s lodge. ‘Albert, I have permission to go out. I’m going after a job.’
The old man hauled himself out of his chair and limped to open the gate for her. He remembered the lass coming in with her mam and her little brother. The poor woman had been heavy with child
and now, by all accounts, she’d lost the bairn.
‘You look as pretty as a picture, mi duck,’ he told Meg, knowing she would not sneer at him daring to compliment her. Not like some of the women in here who laughed in his face if he
even spoke to them. Trollops, the lot of ’em, to his mind, but not this lass and her mam. They were a nice family. ‘Mind you’re back by six o’clock, won’t yer?
Shouldn’t like to see you in trouble.’
Meg smiled at him, dimpling prettily. ‘I will, Albert.’
As he closed the gate behind her, she turned and waved and he called, ‘Good luck wi’ yer job.’
There was a spring in Meg’s step as she walked down the long cinder path to the road. She breathed in deeply, savouring the fresh morning air. Oh, what it was to be free, out in the open.
She hadn’t realized just how much the workhouse confined her. How damp and cold and oppressive it was to be inside those thick walls and behind the iron bars of the huge gates. She felt like
a caged bird within its confines, but out here she could fly free.
Meg found herself sending up an ardent prayer.
Please let me get this job! Please let me get it and then I can get Mam and Bobbie out of that place
.
Meg walked down the High Street in the centre of the town. Already the street was busy: ladies in long skirts and white blouses were moving from shop to shop with baskets on
their arms. Two young girls, carrying school books, stood chatting in the middle of the road, whilst a youth with a bicycle stood leaning on it, trying to catch the eye of one of the girls. He
raised his cap to Meg, but she put her nose in the air in haughty rejection, tossing back her long red hair beneath the beribboned straw boater.
Outside the General Stores stood the proprietor, in a white jacket and a long white apron that reached down to his ankles.
‘Good morning, good morning . . .’ Meg heard him greeting the folk passing his shop.
She walked on, past the newsagent’s with a rack of the day’s papers hanging to one side of the door, past the ironmonger’s with pots and pans, buckets and mops in the window,
to the shop next door, where the sign read ‘T. RODWELL & SON, Tailor and Outfitter’. It was a double-fronted shop, with the door in the centre between two windows.
Meg paused and peered in. Her heart was beating fast and her hands felt clammy. Inside she could see a man standing behind the counter. He was thin with receding dark hair and dressed in a sober
suit with a waistcoat, a stiff-collared white shirt and a plain tie. He was serving a customer and as Meg glanced at the man in front of the counter, she gasped. It was Theobald Finch, the chairman
of the board of guardians at the workhouse. Meg bit her lip, uncertain what she should do. Should she wait out here until Mr Finch had left or should she go inside and stand quietly at the rear of
the shop until Mr Rodwell was free?
Deciding that the latter course of action was perhaps the safest – she didn’t want to be accused of hanging about in the street in a suspicious manner – Meg opened the shop
door. The bell clanged loudly and both men turned to look at her. Meg closed the door carefully, though the bell clanged again. She turned to face them.
‘Good morning.’ She smiled. ‘I’ve come to see Mr Rodwell. Would you like me to wait outside?’
Closer now, she could see that the tailor was younger than she had expected him to be. She had imagined an elderly man, but Mr Rodwell looked to be in his early forties. He had a sallow
complexion and his pale hazel eyes were large behind thick spectacles.
He blinked several times, but did not smile. ‘No, no,’ he said in a soft voice. ‘That won’t be necessary. Just wait over there, if you please, and I’ll be with you
shortly.’