The Buffer Girls (12 page)

‘Ya little bitch! I’ll teach you to—’

‘Let her go.’ Another voice came out of the darkness behind her attacker, a firm authoritative voice.

‘Huh?’ The young man holding her turned slightly to look at whoever had spoken. ‘What you on about? Oh, I see, fancy her yourself, do ya?’

‘It’s not that,’ the voice came again,
and then he came closer and in the dim light Emily could just make out his features. She recognized him even before he said,
‘It’s Emily from our court. She’s a mate of my sister’s. So you just let her go, Pete, else I just might get a bit cross. And you don’t like me when I’m angry,
do you?’

The youth released Emily as if he’d been stung – so suddenly that she almost lost her balance.
‘Sorry, Mick. I didn’t know. I just thought she was some slag out
for—’

‘Well, she isn’t. She’s a nice girl. Not that you’d know one if you met one, Pete. Nice girls don’t go for the likes of you.’ He stepped closer and took
Emily’s arm, but now it was in a friendly, concerned way. ‘You orreight, luv?’

‘Yes – yes. Thank you, Mick.’

‘Think nothing of it, but you shouldn’t be out
in the alleyways on your own at this time of the night. Tell you what, I’ll walk you home.’

‘Oh really,’ Emily began to protest – she didn’t want to be any more in the Dugdales’ debt than her family already was – ‘there’s no
need.’

‘There’s every need, if you meet another thug like Pete here. Come on.’ He tucked her hand through his arm and began to lead her out of the alley. He turned
briefly to call
over his shoulder, ‘I’ll see you later, lads.’

As they moved away, Emily was sure she heard her attacker mutter, ‘He does want her for himself. I knew he did.’

‘So,’ Mick asked as they walked side by side, pressed close together in the narrow alley. ‘How do you like the big, bad city?’

Emily, recovering from her fright a little, forced a laugh. ‘Until just now, I
really liked it. It’s bustling and exciting and oh, there’s so much to see and do. But yes,
you’re right. I shouldn’t have been walking home this late on my own, but I’ve been so used to just going out whenever and wherever I wanted at home, I – I didn’t stop
to think.’

It wasn’t far to the entrance to their court but Mick walked her right to the door of the Ryans’ home. ‘There you are,
back home, almost safe and sound.’ They paused and
turned to face each other. Mick touched her cheek gently. ‘I hope that ruffian didn’t hurt you.’

‘No, I’ve had worse slaps than that in my time,’ she murmured and thought, From my mother, if the truth be told. ‘But thanks, Mick. I – I don’t know what
might have happened if you hadn’t been there.’

For a moment his face was grim. ‘Something
not very pleasant for a nice lass like you.’ He stared at her through the darkness and then appeared to shake himself before adding,
‘Night, then, I’ll be off.’

‘Night – and thanks.’

He was already halfway across the yard. He didn’t turn but merely waved his hand in acknowledgement.

‘What time do you call this?’ was Martha’s only greeting. ‘Get yourself washed and come and help me.’

Emily sighed and decided to say nothing about what had happened, but, later, she would tell Josh. They had better both be on their guard from now on.

Sheffield, though a vibrant and exciting place, was not quite the safe little backwater she had been used to.

As autumn turned into winter, the house in the court became colder and damper. Washday on a Monday morning and trying to get the clothes dry if they could not be hung out in
the yard, was a nightmare for Martha.

‘It’ll be your job to light the fire in the grate under the set-pot,’ she told Emily. ‘You’ll have to get up a bit earlier.’

‘The what?’

Martha smiled. ‘It’s
what Mrs Dugdale calls the copper.’ She pointed to the corner. ‘That monstrosity.’

So on a Monday morning, as well as on a Saturday afternoon when she washed her own dirty work clothes, Emily rose at dawn to light both fires in the kitchen. Then, whilst she waited to be sure
that they were fully alight, she fetched the tub, dolly and washboard from the cellar and, if the weather was bad,
the clothes horse too. She sighed, hoping her father would be allowed to stay in
bed whilst the kitchen was full of steam, especially if sheets, towels and all their clothes had to be strung on lines across the whole room. Sometimes, the steam helped his breathing, but at
others, he ended the day shivering from the door being left open all day. It was hard work for her mother, Emily acknowledged
that, but Martha never complained. It was all for Josh and, in her
mind, it would one day be worth the hardship they had all endured.

On a wet washday, the house seemed to smell constantly of wet clothes and Walter’s cough grew worse.

‘We should never have come here, Mam,’ Emily said, watching her poor father struggling for breath and hugging a blanket round him even though he was sitting
as close as he could get
to the range. She glanced at the fire and bit her lip, feeling guilty because she and Josh could not provide more coal.

‘He’s all right,’ Martha said impatiently.

‘We should have a doctor look at him.’

‘And where do you think I’m going to find the money to pay for a doctor when I can’t even feed us all properly? Josh needs his food. He’s doing a man’s work
now.
The rest of us can manage.’

Emily had noticed that her portions were less than they had been and now she glanced at her mother. Despite the bulky winter clothes, she could see that Martha had lost weight. No doubt she was
going short herself to feed Josh. Emily looked back at her father. He, too, looked thinner, if that was possible, she thought wryly. He looked even frailer every
day and his hacking cough was
painful even to listen to. Emily turned away and went out of the house, closing the door behind her. She had to do something. She had to bring more money into the house somehow.

She had been working with Nell for four weeks now and the older girl said she was doing well. Dare she, she wondered, ask Mrs Nicholson if she would put her on a wheel now? She leaned
against
the rough brickwork of the house and dropped her head, tears prickling the back of her eyes.

‘You orreight, Emily?’ She started at the sound of Mick’s voice close to her. She hadn’t seen him come across the yard.

‘Yes – no, I mean . . .’

‘Well, which is it, ’cos I don’t like to see a girl crying, ’specially one as pretty as you.’

Emily smiled thinly. ‘It’s just my dad
is so very poorly and – and he ought to have a doctor, only—’ She bit her lip.

‘Only you can’t afford one. That it?’

She nodded miserably, ashamed at having to admit her family’s difficulties. There were others far worse off than themselves. You only had to look at poor Rosa Jacklin, struggling to feed
herself and her children with only her elderly mother-in-law to help. Impatient with
her self-pity, Emily brushed away her tears and tried to smile. ‘Sorry, Mick. You caught me in a weak
moment. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

Mick shrugged. ‘It’s orreight. That’s what mates are for.’ He paused and seemed to be thinking, a slight frown on his face. ‘Look, there might be a way I can help.
I’ll have a talk to that brother of yours.’

‘Oh no, please, don’t. I – I don’t
want him worried. He’s got enough to cope with.’

Mick gave a bark of laughter. ‘With our Lizzie, you mean? Aye, well, I can almost feel sorry for the bloke, ’cos when she gets her claws into a feller, she don’t let go easy.
Anyway,’ he reached out and pinched her cheek gently, ‘don’t you worry your pretty head any more. You leave it to Uncle Mick.’

As he turned and walked away jauntily,
thrusting his hands into his pockets and whistling, it wasn’t just the cold that made Emily shiver.

That evening, there was a knock on their door and Emily opened it to find Mick standing there, his right hand holding the handlebars of a bicycle.

‘I’ve brought this for Josh. Lizzie said he needed one for getting to and from work.’

‘Oh Mick.’ Emily didn’t know what to say. She was grateful
that Josh would no longer have the long walk to work and yet . . .

‘Is he in?’

‘Shut that door, Emily,’ Martha called crossly. ‘Either come in or go out, do. Your father’s in a terrible draught and you’re letting all the heat out of the
house.’

‘Come in, Mick,’ Emily said quickly. He leaned the bicycle against the wall and stepped inside.

Softly, Emily said, ‘It’s awfully good
of you, but I don’t think we can afford—’

‘What’s going on?’ Martha demanded.

Emily bit her lip. ‘Mick’s brought a bicycle for Josh to get to work on.’

‘Evenin’, Mrs Ryan,’ Mick said, grinning and taking off his cap. ‘Our Lizzie said Josh has a long way to walk to work and I thought—’

Martha came towards him, smiling. ‘Why, that’s very kind of you, Mick, I’m sure. How much do we
owe you?’

With a swift glance towards Emily, Mick shrugged and said, ‘How about five bob? And you can pay me a shilling a week, if that’d help.’

Martha’s face was grim for a moment and she cast a resentful glance at her daughter, but she forced a smile back on her face and nodded, ‘That’d be very good of you. Thank you,
Mick. Can I offer you a cup of tea?’

‘No, I’d better be off,
ta very much, though.’ With his hand on the door handle, he winked at Emily and added, ‘And tell your Josh I’ll tek him out with me
an’ my mates on Saturday night. Show him the city’s night life.’

‘Thanks, Mick,’ Emily said quietly, but she had no intention of doing any such thing. The moment the door closed, Martha rounded on Emily. ‘What have you been saying to the
neighbours, insinuating
that we’re poverty stricken, have you?’

‘No, Mam, I—’ Emily took a deep breath as she prepared to bend the truth – just a little. ‘It was Lizzie who said she thought Josh ought to have a bicycle. She said
she’d ask Mick.’ This bit, at least, was the truth, but Martha was not about to let the matter drop. ‘So what was all that about paying him a shilling a week?’

Mentally, Emily crossed
her fingers as she shrugged and said, airily, ‘I expect that’s the way most folks round here pay for things.’

Martha glared at her for a moment, but as Walter began to cough, drawing her attention to him, she turned away. Emily glanced at her father and, though she could not have sworn it in a court of
law, she was sure he winked at her.

Emily no longer walked to work with Lizzie for
she had to be there earlier than all the buffer girls to have everything ready for them. As she walked along one morning, pulling
her shawl closely around her, she determined to speak to the missus that very day. Despite Martha’s blind faith in Josh, it seemed he could not expect a wage rise yet.

‘I’m doing my best, Em,’ he’d said when she’d tackled him the previous night, their conversation
carried out in whispers so that their mother would not hear.
‘And Mr Bayes says I’m a good worker, but I don’t even like it. It’s hard and mucky.’ He sighed. ‘I should have stood up to Mam. We should never have come here.
And what Amy must be thinking, I don’t know. She’s never written.’

‘Not at all?’

Josh shook his head. ‘Not once.’

‘Have you written to her?’

‘Yes, twice a
week. I sent one myself when we first got here but now I give the letters to Mam to post and I leave her the coppers for the stamps so she doesn’t have to spend her
housekeeping money.’

‘I don’t expect she minds,’ Emily smiled and added cheekily, ‘if it’s for you.’

Josh smiled wryly and then added seriously, ‘I’m so sorry, Em, that I can’t help you more.’

‘Don’t worry,’ she patted
his shoulder, ‘I’ll see Mrs Nicholson tomorrow.’

But now the moment was near, Emily felt her knees trembling as she let herself into the workshop and began her morning’s tasks. She worked swiftly and competently now, so that by the time
the buffer girls began to arrive, everything was ready for them. Mrs Nicholson glanced around and nodded her approval. ‘You’ve made a good errand lass, Emily,
but I think you’re
worth more. Nell tells me you’ve done really well. So, at dinner time, I’ll see what you can do and maybe we’ll be able to set you on as a proper buffer girl.’

Emily turned pink with pleasure, and also with relief that now she didn’t have to approach the delicate subject herself.

At dinner time, Emily was nervous. This was so important, but after she had worked in
front of the missus for half an hour, Ruth Nicholson smiled and nodded. ‘You’ll do, lass. You
can go on t’side next Monday morning and your pay’ll go up to five shillings a week. When you get a bit quicker at it, then I’ll put you on piece-rate and then you should be able
to earn a bit more. I’ll start you on heeling and pipping.’ Emily knew that this was what most buffer girls started on; buffing
the end of spoon and fork handles. ‘In the
meantime,’ the missus went on, ‘I’ll get Ida’s niece in and you can show her the ropes for the rest of this week. That way, she might be some use by next week, though
–’ Ruth lowered her voice – ‘I doubt she’ll be as good as you’ve been.’ The woman sighed. ‘Still, I can’t let you go on as an errand lass any
longer. You deserve better and, besides,
you have the makings of an excellent buffer girl.’

Emily glowed with pride. She couldn’t wait to tell Trip. They’d been able to meet most Sunday afternoons but, as the weather grew colder, Emily suggested that he should come to her
home instead of meeting her in the park. Trip had shaken his head. ‘Best not,’ he’d said and then he’d turned his refusal into a compliment by squeezing her hand
and adding,
‘Besides, I want you all to myself, though I do wish it was sometimes the four of us, like it used to be.’

‘So do I,’ Emily murmured, recalling the happy times they had spent together as youngsters.

‘Josh and me were good mates – still are, I hope.’

‘Do you remember that snowy winter when Amy’s dad made two toboggans for us?’

‘Yes, I do. And he made Josh and me promise
faithfully to look after you two girls.’