Farewell to Lancashire (6 page)

She saw the surprise on the young woman’s face, saw too the intelligence there. No doubt that also upset the ladies. ‘The baby clothes are in another room. Leave that unfinished pinafore at the front for someone else to work on, but bring the sewing equipment you were given.’

She smiled at the other two sisters and led the way out, ignoring the other lady supervisor’s outraged glare.

Wondering what had caused this offer, Cassandra followed Mrs Southerham’s swaying crinoline. What would it be like to wear clothes such as these? To have smooth hands that didn’t look as if the skin had ever been roughened by scrubbing? Like any young woman, Cassandra did her best to dress as attractively as possible, but she could never look like this.

‘In here.’

She realised she’d been so lost in thought she’d nearly walked past the open door and blushed at her own stupidity in letting her attention slip. She mustn’t give them any reason to criticise her. Was this talk of baby clothes just an excuse? Was she about to be lectured and told to stop attending the sewing class? If so, she needed to keep all her wits about her. She would
not
let them drive her away.

Heart thumping with anxiety, she followed Mrs Southerham into the room.

‘Come and sit down and I’ll explain what we need to do.’

As Cassandra moved forward, she realised suddenly that her companion was only her own age and was shorter than she was. You forgot sometimes that behind the beautiful clothes were real people.

Such beautiful clothes, though! The huge bell of a skirt had several rows of flounces round the bottom and even the over-sleeves had two smaller flounces, with white lace-trimmed under-sleeves peeping out beneath them. The bodice buttoned neatly up the front to reveal a white collar edged in lace. On her head Mrs Southerham had a small cap trimmed with lace. And the colour was a rich purple, one of the new aniline dyes, probably.

Cassandra couldn’t help a wistful glance down at her own clothes, which were plain and serviceable, a navy blue skirt, ankle length for easier walking, with two petticoats under it. A lighter blue blouse was topped by a short brown jacket and she used a shawl to cover her head when she went outside the house. The clothes hung loose on her now and the jacket was threadbare and shabby. In normal times she’d have bought another one from the second-hand clothes dealer.

‘My dear, have you eaten at all today?’

Cassandra shook her head.

‘It must be hard going hungry.’

‘You stop feeling hunger pangs after a while, but you don’t feel
right
. It slows you down and you can’t concentrate like you should. I’m sorry if I haven’t worked quickly enough. I—’

‘I’ll go and get you something to eat before we start.’

‘There’s no need. I can wait till the others have theirs.’

‘I was hoping you’d stay on a little longer afterwards and help me with this task, so you may as well eat now. There are babies being born without a stitch to their backs, so we need to sort things out quickly. Unless you have something else to do this afternoon, of course?’

She couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. ‘No. That’s one of the problems of being out of work, not having anything to do. With four women in the family, the housework doesn’t take all day.’

‘Wait here a minute then.’

Cassandra leaned back in her chair, studying the little room, whose walls were covered in well polished wood panelling, and whose floor was covered by bundles of clothing. What was this place used for? There seemed to be a lot of rooms in this building, far more than in the smaller Methodist chapel her family attended.

Mrs Southerham returned with a plate and a glass brimming with milk.

Cassandra’s stomach suddenly betrayed her by growling and when the plate and glass were placed in front of her, her hand shook as she reached out for the piece of bread with its meagre scraping of butter. It took all her willpower not to cram it into her mouth.

‘Take your time. You’ll work better if you’re not hungry.’ Mrs Southerham moved across to look out of the window.

If she’s doing this to give me privacy, Cassandra thought, as she took small bites, then she’s far more thoughtful than the others. She chewed carefully and slowly, swallowing the occasional mouthful of milk to help the food down.

When she’d finished, she cleared her throat and Mrs Southerham turned round, looking at her sympathetically, no sign of scorn on her face.

‘Didn’t they tell you?’ Cassandra asked, surprised by how harshly her voice came out.

‘Tell me what?’

‘They’re telling everyone else that my sisters and I are immoral, so I thought they’d have mentioned it to you.’

‘Oh, that. I never give any credence to gossip, and anyway, I don’t believe it of you. I’ve seen enough young women of loose morals to recognise one.’

‘You have?’

‘Yes. I’m a parson’s daughter. I used to help my father and mother visit the poorer parishioners. My mother tried to help girls in that sort of trouble, not make things worse for them, since they carried the burden of shame and the men they went with usually got away scot-free.’

Cassandra hesitated, then asked, ‘You speak differently from folk round here. You come from another part of the country, I think.’

‘Yes. From Hertfordshire.’

‘What’s it like there?’

Mrs Southerham smiled. ‘Much softer than this part of the world, with no moors.’

‘I can’t imagine that.’ Cassandra realised she was chatting as if to a friend and bit back another question, not wanting to give offence.

‘We’d better open the bundles and start sorting out the clothes, but there’s no reason we can’t chat to pass the time.’

‘Why are you doing this, helping me, I mean?’

Mrs Southerham knew what her companion was really asking. ‘Because I can’t bear injustice. They’ve even tried to change your names. I think that’s shameful.’

Cassandra couldn’t hold back a few tears then. Sympathy and kindness were the last things she’d expected.

‘Tell me about your father,’ Mrs Southerham asked once she’d recovered. ‘He must be an exceptional man to be learning Greek.’

‘He is. And he’s the best father in the world.’

‘So was mine. I miss him dreadfully. He died two years ago and I still think of things to tell him.’

‘And your mother?’

‘She followed him to the grave a few months later, just seemed to lose the will to live after he’d gone.’

When the bell rang to mark the end of the morning session, Mrs Southerham stopped work. ‘We’d better tell your sisters you’re staying on to help me. I’ll come with you in case there are any – er, questions from the other ladies. And you’d better have something else to eat, because we have an hour or two’s hard work ahead of us still. I’ll get that for you while you speak to your sisters.’

As Livia approached the area where the bread and milk were served, the Vicar approached her.

‘Might I have a word, my dear lady?’

‘Certainly.’

‘I believe you’ve taken a certain young person out of the group to work with you. I cannot advise this, knowing her background as I do. You must allow me to guide you in your choice of helper.’

‘I’m quite satisfied with Cassandra’s help, thank you. She’s not only a hard worker but she’s very intelligent and quick to learn.’

His face became a deeper red. Before he could speak again, she added, ‘I think people have been mistaken about her morals, Vicar.’

‘The lady who informed us knows the family.’

‘The lady who informed you bears a grudge against that family, from what I’ve heard. And might I say that
my
family will be very surprised that you’re questioning my judgement like this.’ She didn’t often use the Southerhams’ superior social status, but was so angry about how they were treating the Blake sisters that she didn’t hesitate to do so now.

She watched his desire to have his own way war with his desire to stand well with her husband’s family, and the latter must have won.

‘Well, if you insist. I must just pray that your trust isn’t betrayed.’ With an inclination of the head, he moved on.

Why were they all so against those girls? Was it just based on one spiteful woman’s word or was there another reason? Perhaps because of the way they spoke, using long words and expressing thoughts that showed an interest in matters beyond domesticity. Livia went across to the table and took some food, together with a glass of milk.

The lady looked at her sharply but didn’t protest, and Livia went back to the small room, where Cassandra was once again at work.

It took another two hours to sort out all the clothes and examine each piece carefully to see which needed mending and which didn’t, forming and reforming piles.

At one stage Livia saw Cassandra stroking a tiny embroidered jacket.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. I’ve never seen anything like it.’ She smiled. ‘Our babies don’t usually wear such pretty clothes.’

Livia bit her lip but couldn’t prevent her expression from betraying her sadness. She saw Cassandra look at her anxiously. ‘I lost a child last year and sometimes I feel sad when I see baby clothes.’

‘Then why not leave this task for other ladies?’

‘Because this is something I can do without their help.’ She saw the quick understanding in her companion’s eyes and added, ‘I’m not very good at gossip and not interested in the town’s scandals, real or imaginary.’

‘You’re kind and that’s much more important.’

‘I do my best. Now, we’ve done enough for today. All the bundles are properly labelled. Let me take you home in my carriage.’

‘Better not. I’ve offended those in charge enough for one day.’

Livia chuckled. ‘I’ve enjoyed working with you, Cassandra. Are you coming back tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Whatever they say or do, I need the money and the food.’

‘Then I’ll come back, too. And I’ll make sure they let you continue to work with me.’

When Cassandra told her family about Mrs Southerham and how frankly the two of them had spoken, Edwin frowned.

‘Be careful, lass. The gentry take sudden fancies, then grow tired of them just as quickly.’

‘I don’t think Mrs Southerham will. But if she does, I’m no worse off. She’s not employing me, after all, just letting me help her with a particular task.’

‘Her clothes are beautiful,’ Pandora said longingly. ‘It must be wonderful to wear clothes like that.’

‘Better to have a well-furnished mind,’ her father said sharply.

Smiling quickly at one another, they changed the subject. Their father couldn’t understand ‘female vanity’, as he called it, and he never would. But even the clever Blake sisters were interested in pretty clothes.

Maia joined her sisters at the sewing classes on the days she wasn’t cleaning or helping with washing. The money they got for attending was a godsend, because the rent still had to be paid if they wanted to stay in their own home.

When the sisters received their money at the end of each week, Cassandra kept it, not putting it in the pot for her father to give away.

‘Did they pay you?’ he asked that evening.

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve not put it in the pot.’

‘I’ve only got enough for the food.’

‘There’s a family in the next street starving and they have a new baby,’ he said. ‘Could we not spare a few pence? I’d happily go without food one night to make up for it.’

‘Have they applied for relief?’

He hesitated.

‘They haven’t, have they?’

‘The young fellow says he’ll starve to death before he accepts charity.’

‘Isn’t it charity if you give him money?’

‘I was going to give it to his wife.’

‘You’ll help them most by persuading them to go on relief and sending him to break stones.’

‘He’s not strong enough now to do work like that.’

‘Even so,
we
can’t afford to help them.’

The glance he gave her was disappointed, but she didn’t change her mind. Sometimes their father had to be protected from himself.

A few nights later, after dark, there was a knock on the door and Edwin found a tall young man there with a sack in his hand.

‘Mr Blake?’

‘Yes.’

‘This is for you.’ He set the sack down on the floor and hurried off down the street.

Edwin took it through to the kitchen. ‘I don’t know what this is or why it’s been left here, but the young fellow who brought it said my name, so it can’t be a mistake.’

They all gathered round.

‘It looks like the other sack Uncle Joseph gave us,’ Xanthe said.

Sure enough, it contained flour and sugar, potatoes and onions, and even small packages of cheese and ham.

Edwin didn’t comment, but his daughters could see how this gift had pleased him. When he looked across at Cassandra pleadingly, she knew what he was asking and she sighed. ‘I’ll pack a little food for that family you mentioned, but we need the rest, Dad. The rent is still six shillings a week, you know.’