The Girl with the Silver Bangle

‘And your business ’ere?’ she asked.

‘We have rented rooms to live in,’ Arthur replied, colouring under the woman’s appraisal.

‘Didn’t think you’d come ’ere for a blinkin’ holiday,’ she cackled, gesturing to their laden cart.

‘’Ere Cora, you’s a card, you is,’ one of the other women guffawed but fell silent when she shot her a glare.

‘Must be mistaken about the number though. Rooms in number six is all taken but thirteen has empty ones on the top floor,’ she said, pointing further along the yard.

‘No, it’s definitely the bottom floor of number six. My wife here can’t manage stairs easily and—’

‘Stairs!’ the woman shrieked. ‘Wooden steps, more like, and rickety at that. Like I says, number thirteen’s the only one got any free rooms and you’ll find the key in the door.’

‘There must be some mistake …’ Arthur began but the woman had clearly lost interest and turned back to her friends.

‘Come on, Arthur, let’s go and find number thirteen,’ Mabel insisted, tugging at his sleeve.

‘But the stairs …’

‘I’ll manage,’ she assured him. ‘And Daisy will help unload our things, won’t you?’ she asked.

Seeing her mother’s pleading expression, Daisy nodded.

‘Of course. Well, let’s go and take a look,’ she said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. The sooner they got inside the better, for the cloud of flies swarming around them along with the foul stench coming from the outhouses was making her nauseous. And judging from the way her mother was swaying, her energy along with her optimism was rapidly waning.

‘You help Mother and I’ll go and open up,’ Daisy told her father, pushing open the door marked thirteen. It was dingy inside but, determinedly, she tackled the steep stairs, trying to ignore the dirt littering the hallway. On the top floor a key dangled from one of the door handles. Gingerly, she turned it and, as the wooden panel creaked open, she suppressed a shudder. The bare floorboards were filthy, one rickety chair was upended in the middle of the room, another propped up at a scratched table. A rusty range was set into the corner on which stood a battered skillet. The only other room was taken up by a torn mattress amid huge balls of dust. Cobwebs festooned the ceiling like panels of dingy lace.

‘Looks like the previous occupants left in a hurry,’ Mabel panted as she stood in the living area surveying everything. Letting out a deep sigh, she sank wearily into the chair by the table.

‘I’m sorry, love,’ Arthur said, as he followed her in. ‘The man I paid the rent to definitely said it was rooms on the ground floor.’

‘Well, it’s too late to do anything now; we’ll sort it tomorrow,’ Mabel replied, forcing a smile. ‘We can’t sleep in this mess though. You two go and bring up the bucket, broom and some cloths and we’ll make a start on cleaning this place up.’ Struggling to her feet, she removed her coat, folded it over the back of the chair then rolled up her sleeves. ‘Oh, and you’d better fill the kettle before you bring it up. I take it we’re going to have to share that water pipe outside?’

‘Looks like it,’ Arthur said sadly.

How could her mother even think of staying here, Daisy wondered, as they retraced their steps. This place was worse than dreadful. When she saw the ragamuffins picking through their things, she saw red.

‘Here, get your thieving hands off,’ she shouted, shaking her fists at one who’d climbed onto the barrow and donned her father’s cap and muffler. As she caught hold of his arm to retrieve them, he squealed loudly, alerting the group of women who came scuttling over.

‘Just you take your hands off my Jimmy, you cow,’ a glassy-eyed woman screeched.

‘Not ’til he gives my father’s things back,’ Daisy insisted, hanging onto the wriggling youth.

‘Why you …’ the woman hissed, raising her fist at Daisy.

‘Come now, ladies, we don’t have much ourselves, you know,’ her father said quietly, placing himself firmly between them. ‘Now be a good lad and hand back our things and I’ll help you down,’ he continued, staring into the boy’s face.

‘Can get down meself,’ he muttered, tossing the muffler and cap into the dirt and jumping down on top of them.

‘Why you …’ Daisy cried but as she went to pull him off, her father gave her a warning look and put out a restraining hand.

‘Right then, we’ll start unloading,’ he said adopting a cheerful tone, as he bent and picked them up. Excitement over, the little crowd dispersed, leaving Daisy shaking with anger.

‘How can you be so calm?’ she asked her father.

‘No good getting their backs up. Your mother’s waiting, so fill these while I find the other things we need,’ he said, handing Daisy the bucket and kettle.

‘But you still haven’t told me what’s happened,’ Daisy began. ‘And you do realise there are only two rooms in that dreadful place?’

‘I know,’ he said, frowning. ‘There’s obviously been some mistake and I’ll get it sorted. Now go and fetch that water. We’ll have a brew when we’ve finished and I’ll explain everything then.’ Seeing he wouldn’t be drawn, Daisy walked over to the pump and began filling the utensils with water. The women watched her disdainfully then went back to their gossiping.

While Daisy began the mammoth task of trying to make the rooms habitable, her mother attempted to coax the range into life. Meanwhile, her father bustled back and forth carrying up the few possessions they’d managed to bring with them. No matter how hard her mother tried, the range wouldn’t catch and finally, having only succeeded in filling the room with smoke, she gave up and collapsed back into the chair. Seeing how exhausted her parents looked, Daisy filled their mugs with water then perched on a folded blanket on the windowsill.

‘So, exactly what happened today?’ she asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

Arthur sighed, took a long draught then placed his empty mug on the table.

‘For some time now, the women at the factory have been unhappy with their working conditions. Often they find themselves up to their ankles in water and apparently there’s defects with their sanitary arrangements. They even have to make their tea in a bucket, would you believe? Anyhow, this woman called Annie Jacks, a widow with five children to support, dared to voice her concerns, stating that even though she’d worked there for years, her wages were well below the men’s and she could no longer afford to feed her family. The supervisor took against her, making coarse suggestions as to how she could earn more. Then this morning the checking man on the gate reprimanded her for being late and threatened to dock her money. When she protested that she was on time she was sacked. It was obviously a put-up job.’

‘Knowing they’d end up in the workhouse where the family would be split up, your father stood up for her,’ Mabel declared. ‘And I’m proud of him.’

‘Except we both got the sack,’ he said wryly. ‘Not only that, when the other women heard what happened they threatened to go on strike so the foreman dubbed me a troublemaker and refused to pay my week’s wage. Like I said earlier, the landlord didn’t take kindly to me not having all the rent so he kept our best bits of furniture. I had to find us cheaper rooms but I swear the man said they’d be on the ground floor.’

‘Oh Father, that’s a terrible thing to have happened,’ Daisy said, waving away a bluebottle that buzzed against the cracked windowpane. ‘Perhaps you can sort it out with him tomorrow,’ she asked hopefully.

‘I should never have put my own family’s future at risk,’ Arthur cried, banging his fist on the table in despair.

‘You did what you thought right,’ Mabel assured him.

‘But now we’re not far from destitution ourselves.’

‘At least I’ve still got my sewing box so perhaps I can find some alteration work,’ Mabel murmured, looking towards the window doubtfully.

‘And I have a bit left from last week’s pay,’ Daisy said, delving into her pocket and placing a few coins in front of him.

‘You’re a good girl,’ her mother said.

‘Thanks, Daisy; that’ll be a help. But I’ll pay you back as soon as I get another job and decent rooms for us to stay in,’ Arthur said, pocketing the money. ‘I’ll go and see the landlord first thing, then see who’s hiring,’ he added.

‘In the meantime, we’ll just have to make the best of it for tonight,’ her mother said, frowning uncertainly at the mattress through the open doorway.

‘I’ll bed down with a blanket in here,’ Daisy offered, eager to erase the worry lines that creased her mother’s brow.

Hearing the sound of voices outside, they looked at each other but then a door slammed and all went quiet.

‘Must be our neighbours,’ Mabel said. ‘I’ll introduce myself tomorrow.’

‘Be careful, love, you don’t know who—’ Arthur began only to be interrupted by a sharp knock. Exchanging worried looks, Arthur got to his feet but as he opened the door the aroma of meat pies wafted into the room, making Daisy’s stomach growl.

‘Hello there,’ a woman’s voice greeted. ‘I’m Ruby Dickin and these are my daughters Sarah and Emma. We live across the hall and thought we’d pop over and introduce ourselves.’

‘Come on in,’ Mabel called, struggling to her feet. Although Daisy smiled brightly at the women, she couldn’t help her glance straying to the parcels they were clutching.

‘I’m Arthur Tucker, and this is my wife Mabel and daughter Daisy,’ Arthur said making the introductions.

‘Saw we had new neighbours and thought it would be friendly to share our supper, didn’t we, girls? That’s if you haven’t already eaten?’ she added, fair curls frizzing from under her bonnet as she talked. They were all wearing simple gowns, which, although well patched, looked clean, and with their straw-like hair and pale-blue eyes, it was easy to tell they were mother and daughters.

‘How kind. Truth to tell we haven’t even begun thinking of supper,’ Mabel replied. ‘I’d invite you to take a cuppa with us but I can’t get the blessed range to work for love nor money.’ Mabel groaned.

‘It never has done,’ Ruby declared. ‘And to be truthful, gin’s always been Cora’s tipple, if you get my meaning. She were always moaning about having to go downstairs when she needed the privy. Didn’t know she’d moved though ’til we came in and saw her in number six.’

‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Daisy asked, staring at her father.

‘I am that,’ Arthur replied, his lips tightening into a line. ‘And I’m also thinking I’m going to tackle her right this minute.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Daisy told him, jumping to her feet, ready to do battle with that horrible woman.

Just then the ring of boots on cobbles and the sound of drunken singing shattered the peace of the evening.

‘What the …’ Daisy began.

‘That’s the men returning from the pub. Drunk as skunks they’ll be and looking for trouble. If I were you, Mr Tucker,’ Ruby advised, ‘I’d come and eat your supper and stay well clear.’

Chapter 3

‘Take a pew, kettle will be ready soon,’ Ruby said, ushering them into her home and removing her bonnet. Daisy couldn’t help looking around and comparing it to the dingy hovel they’d moved into across the hallway. Although the furniture was sparse and had obviously seen better days, everywhere was tidy and clean. Cushions on the wooden chairs and a rag rug beside the table lent the place a homely air.

‘Oh, this is lovely,’ Mabel cried, unwittingly echoing Daisy’s thoughts.

‘Surprising what a difference a few remnants from the market can make. Shame about the outside though.’ Ruby shrugged, as they heard the sound of men swearing, a shout followed by scuffling and then the slamming of doors.

‘Sounds like a flippin’ army on the march out there.’ Arthur frowned, getting up and peering out of the window. ‘Just how many men are there?’

‘Generally, there’s around a hundred people living in this yard,’ Ruby told them.

‘What, just in these two rows of houses?’ Daisy gasped, her eyes widening in horror.

‘Yep. It’s the same in the other three yards. Most of the men meet up in the alehouses of an evening, get drunk, fight, go to bed, sleep it off then start it all over again tomorrow. It’s no wonder some of their women take to gin.’

‘Luckily Arthur doesn’t squander his wages like that,’ Mabel said.

‘Well, good for you, Arthur, though you’re in the minority round here. I was given a glass of gin once. Cried my eyes out all evening and never knew what I was blubbin’ about. Tea’s more to my taste and I’ll make us that brew right now,’ she said, carrying a large brown pot over to the range as the kettle began to sing. ‘Sarah, you cut up those pies and pass them round; Emma, set out some more mugs.’

As they tucked in ravenously, Daisy was pleased to see her mother’s face regain some colour. Today couldn’t have been easy for her. She’d lived in their little house since she’d married Daisy’s father eighteen years ago, saved hard for the few good pieces of furniture they’d had, and now, through no fault of her own, she’d been forced to move to this rough area. Yet, listening to her chatting with Ruby, you’d never think her world had been turned upside down.

‘So, you all work in the laundry then?’ Mabel was asking.

‘Yes, huge place it is. The girls help with the washing and starching, while I iron. It’s backbreaking work but keeps the wolf from the door.’ The woman grimaced.

‘The steam plays havoc with our hair, makes it stiff as straw,’ Emma groaned. ‘And that lye leaves our skin red and raw,’ Sarah added, holding up her mottled hands. The picture they conjured up was so graphic, Daisy imagined sketching it.

‘You’re both very pretty though.’ Mabel smiled. ‘What are you, eighteen? Seventeen?’ The girls beamed delightedly.

‘I’m sixteen and Emma’s fifteen,’ Sarah explained.

‘Our Daisy’s sixteen too,’ Mabel replied.

‘Seventeen in January,’ Daisy added quickly, for she’d felt quite grown up since Harry had proposed. Not that he’d sought her father’s permission yet, only having asked her the night before he left. He’d promised to do things properly when he returned in the autumn, but having an understanding in the meantime was exciting. Almost as if she was aware of her thoughts, Mabel smiled indulgently at her, then turned to Ruby.

‘Have you been here long?’

‘Six years now. These rooms were all I could afford after my George were taken.’

‘Oh, I am sorry,’ Mabel murmured.

‘You get used to it.’ Ruby sighed. ‘And my girls are such a comfort,’ she added, beaming at Sarah and Emma. ‘Anyhow, things are on the up now we’ve got nice new neighbours. What brings you to this neck of the woods, if you don’t mind my asking?’

As Arthur explained how their change in circumstances had come about, Ruby nodded sadly. ‘It’s true conditions for women in some of the factories are dire. Though it ain’t right you losing your job for sticking up for a widow with a family to support, sometimes it’s best to keep your head down.’

‘But things do need to change,’ Sarah cried, staring at her mother in horror.

Daisy nodded. ‘Perhaps women should start speaking up for themselves.’

‘Not easy though, is it? My friend Fanny works ten and a half hours each day in the jam factory lugging huge vats of boiling pulp across the floor. She’s always scalding herself on the sticky syrup and her arms are a right mess. Yet it’s a job, and her family need her wages so she daren’t risk being sacked,’ Ruby lamented, shaking her head. ‘What about you, Daisy? Where do you work?’

‘At the Fun Factory,’ she replied. ‘I began by helping to clean the costumes and now run errands, that sort of thing. I really love drawing and my ambition is to work with the scenery designers,’ she added. They stared admiringly at her and she wondered if she’d made it sound grander than it was.

‘You’d best be careful; sit still for two minutes and you’ll find yourself in a picture,’ Mabel quipped, making them laugh.

‘Actually, there’s a vacancy coming up that I intend going for. It’ll mean more money,’ Daisy said, looking to her father for approval. But his lips tightened and she realised money was a sore subject. ‘Still, I enjoy it there and even get to meet some of the performers,’ she added quickly.

‘Have you met that Charlie Chaplin bloke?’ Emma asked excitedly.

‘Not yet, but I keep hoping. Lots of actors use the factory rehearsal rooms to work out their routines, so you never know who you’ll bump into.’

‘And do women get treated the same as men?’

‘It’s not something I’ve thought about,’ she admitted. ‘Although some like Scarlett, she’s one of the artists, do have opportunities to progress. Mr Karno, the Guv’nor, takes on people for their talents and expertise.’

‘Don’t tell me we have an enlightened employer around here?’ Ruby exclaimed.

‘It’s time women had more of a say and I’m going to join the suffrage movement for that very reason,’ Sarah declared. ‘They’ve a meeting in the halls next weekend; why don’t you come along, Daisy?’

‘Oh, we won’t be here then,’ Mabel interrupted before Daisy could reply.

‘No, of course not,’ Ruby agreed. ‘So, what are your plans, Arthur?’

‘First thing in the morning, I’m going to see who’s hiring. Then I’ll pay a visit to that landlord who promised me rooms on the ground floor,’ he growled.

‘Good for you. And what about you, Mabel?’ Ruby asked, glancing down at Mabel’s misshapen legs. ‘Not that I’m being nosy, you understand.’

‘Used to be a seamstress in Maison Fashions until a fall messed up my legs. Since then I’ve taken in mending and alterations but it’s unlikely there’ll be any work in Tiger Yard,’ she said wryly. ‘But then we’ll not be here long.’

‘Well, good luck with that. I only came here for a few months to sort myself out but time rolls on and the rent keeps going up.’ She shrugged, stifling a yawn.

‘I can’t thank you enough for your kindness tonight. That pie and tea were lifesavers,’ Mabel said, getting to her feet. ‘Let me help clear away before we go.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it, would we, girls?’ Ruby replied. Sarah and Emma shook their heads.

‘It’s been fun hearing about your job, Daisy. Do you ever get to see any of the shows?’ Emma asked, looking at her hopefully.

‘Oh, my Lor’,’ Daisy cried, slapping her forehead. ‘I was meant to be meeting Kezia at the Hippodrome earlier.’

‘Well, I’m sure she’ll understand,’ Mabel replied. ‘Now come along; it’s been a busy day and we must let these ladies get to their beds. Thank you again for your kindness. You must let me cook you a meal in return; hopefully it won’t be next door though.’

‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you lovely folk. If you’re still here tomorrow when we get back from the laundry, I’ll pop in and look at your range. Blinkin’ temperamental most of them, but you can usually get them to work. Lucky it’s summer or you’d be shivering in your boots.’

Their rooms seemed even more bleak after the cosiness of Ruby’s home and Daisy tried not to cringe.

‘At least it’s getting dark so we won’t see any remaining dust,’ Mabel said with forced cheerfulness.

‘Or mice,’ Daisy grimaced as they heard scratching coming from the corner of the room.

‘Dread to think what’s behind that old range,’ Mabel muttered. ‘Can’t believe anyone could live in such squalor. You’d think that woman would have had more pride. I mean Ruby’s got the same accommodation yet she’s made it homely.’

‘As I’m sure you would, my dear,’ Arthur replied.

‘I sincerely hope it won’t come to that,’ she shuddered. ‘Now, come and help me make up that mattress in the other room. Are you sure you’ll be alright in here, Daisy?’

‘Yes, I’ll bed down with a blanket,’ she replied, grabbing one with mock enthusiasm, for she couldn’t imagine she’d get a wink of sleep.

To Daisy’s surprise, despite hearing the strange noises of the building settling for the night, and the scratching and scuttling coming from behind the walls, the upsets of the day caught up with her and she soon fell asleep.

The sun was creeping above the horizon when Daisy woke. She felt stiff from sleeping on the floor and clambered gingerly to her feet, stretching to ease her muscles. Her father’s cap had gone from the back of the chair so he must have crept out at first light in order to find work. Hearing her mother’s gentle snores, she hurriedly dressed and slipped outside. Despite the early hour, she had to queue to use the disgusting facilities the outhouse offered. Everyone looked bleary-eyed as they shuffled impatiently from one leg to the other and clutched their precious supply of paper. Nobody took any notice of her, although one old man leered lasciviously as he came out of the privy, stopping right in front of her and making a show of doing up his trousers. Deliberately, she turned away and, ignoring his ribald remarks, hurried into the vacant cubicle.

The stench made her retch for the floor was awash with goodness knows what. How on earth could people live in such filth, she wondered, as she hurried out of the yard and retraced her steps of the previous day. She hoped her father found employment quickly so that they could move on, for she knew her mother would have trouble managing the stairs. She wished she could stay and help but her money was needed more than ever so she didn’t dare risk being late for work.

As she hurried down the alley and past the public house, the disgusting smell from the outhouse seemed to stay with her, but then her attention was taken up by the volume of traffic teeming round the roads by the Green. Electric trams, their bells clanging were sparking and squeaking their way to and from the town centre; horse-drawn ones were heading out to the suburbs; the occasional motor car wove between the laden carts while wagons of all shapes and sizes jostled for position on the cobbles as they all tried to avoid the tram lines. People were rushing in all directions on the pavements in front of the shops and the noise and chaos was horrendous. Daisy realised she must have been too shocked to take it all in the previous evening.

Having weaved her way through the bustling throng, she turned into the comparative quiet of Coldharbour Lane and joined the workers making their way through the wide doors of the Fun Factory. After listening to the tales Sarah and Emma had to tell about the working conditions for women at other factories, Daisy now realised how lucky she was. However, their discussion had certainly spurred her on to ask Stan, the overseer, about being promoted. After all, the worst that could happen would be he’d say no. Determined to tackle him, she squared her shoulders and strode down the corridor.

‘Surprised to see you heading towards Tiger Yard last night,’ Arnie sneered as he appeared beside Daisy. ‘And with that barrow being loaded up like that, anyone would think you’d moved there.’

‘But I thought you lived in the other direction,’ Daisy countered.

‘I do,’ he scoffed, stressing the words. ‘Thought you did too but if you’ve hit hard times you’ve only got to tell Arnie,’ he added, thrusting his pointed face closer. Immediately, he jumped back again, his nose wrinkling. ‘Blimey,’ he groaned, then his expression turned to one of glee.

Daisy was about to ask what was wrong when she saw the overseer bearing down on them.

‘Bragg, go and tidy the props-room; Tucker, get yourself along to the studio,’ he ordered.

Remembering her earlier resolve she smiled. ‘Sir, I’ve been thinking—’

‘Well, do it later. Come on, jump to it. We’ve important American visitors arriving any moment.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Daisy replied and much to her surprise, instead of arguing, Arnie shot her a jubilant look and swaggered off towards the storeroom.

Resolving to speak to the overseer later, Daisy let herself into the studio.

‘Morning. I hear we have important visitors arriving soon, so what can I do to help?’

‘Nice to see someone so bright and breezy,’ Scarlett murmured, looking up from the floor where she was kneeling beside her canvas. ‘If you could just pass me that brush,’ she added, gesturing to the desk. But as Daisy turned to do so, she heard her gasp.