The Windsor Girl

The Windsor Girl

By

Sylvia Burton

Chapter One

   
‘Oh Thomas, if only you hadn’t mentioned it’,

   
‘Well, how was I to know that you’d hate the idea’, said Thomas, biting into his coarse bread. 

   
‘Anyway, I don’t think she’ll send you there.  Not Mam’.

   
‘Maybe not’, said Ellie, ‘but the idea’s in her head now and she needs the money’.

Ellie scrubbed the step vigorously.

Thomas stuffed the remaining piece of bread into his mouth, wiped the crumbs from his grubby face, with an equally grubby hand and seemed unconcerned.

‘It’s only a job Ellie’.

His sister said nothing but went on to scrub the same step once more and thought, not for the first time in her short life,
things are bound to get better one day
, but her silent words lacked conviction.

Ellie had entered the world, and the Windsor family, on the first day of November 1881, screaming in protest at the indignity of being bundled into a drawer, taken from an old chest, and she had been silently protesting ever since.
  She was born into a family of little importance.  That is, of little importance to anyone, other than, the family itself.  That had been fifteen years ago and they had been as poor then as they were now.

Ellie’s mother, Maggie, was a thin woman of indeterminate age, weary beyond her years and downtrodden by her constant struggle to make ends meet.  As a girl, she had been considered pretty, but her looks had been neglected and had gradually faded into the nondescript appearance of many others in the street, where she had lived since her marriage to Tom Windsor sixteen years earlier.

‘I’ve not got time to paint and powder my face’, she’d say as she scraped back her mousy hair and tied it with a piece of string. 

Things had not been too bad when dad had been here, and her mother not so short-tempered and quick to lash out at her brood, as she did now, but her outburst would never last long.  She would soon feel bad about the way she had ‘carried on’ and make it up to them with a cup of hot cocoa and a hug.

Ellie was the eldest child, born in good health and of a robust constitution.  Later, two other children, both girls, died in infancy of childhood ailments, none of which affected Ellie. A miscarriage took the next child, and then the three boys were born in quick succession and, for some reason, with no health problems whatsoever.

Ellie was the only girl so was expected to look after the boys and help in the house.  They managed to survive in a ‘two up and one down'’ back-to-back, on
Canal Street in an area renown for its slums and drunken brawls after the ale houses closed.

Ellie shared a double bed with her mother in one bedroom, the three boys slept together on a palliasse in the other.  They were used to this arrangement and never thought of it as anything other than normal.  If the children ever felt ‘badly done to’ they didn’t show it.

The youngest of the Windsor family was Harry.  He was seven and Sam a year older.  Thomas was ten years old and considered himself ‘the man of the house’.  He was up at five every morning, collecting and chopping firewood.  He would fasten the wood into small bundles to sell to the people at the ‘posh end’ of town.

‘Them as lives on ‘Snob Hill’ pays ha’penny more for these bundles so it’s well worth the walk, even if I only sell a few’, he said, ‘and anyway, it gives me a chance to get out of this place and see how the other half live’.

Ellie was the only one who had secret misgivings.  It was hard living in these overcrowded conditions, especially, when Maggie was washing.  Four days a week she would light a fire under the ‘set pot’ and would be up to her armpits in soapsuds the rest of the day. 

The house would fill up with steam and the flagged floor would be flooded with water, but others who could afford it, would pay her to do their weekly wash.

‘It’ll help keep us out of the workhouse’, was her usual comment as she wiped the perspiration from her brow.

Recently, Ellie had heard her mother talking to her sister, Dora about having too many kids and not knowing how they were going to survive. 

‘It wouldn't be so bad if I had only two kids.  But
four?
’

The sisters were sharing a jug of stout at the time, which Aunt Dora always brought with her on her visits to see them.  She took a sip of the dark liquid, leaving an unnoticed line of froth on her top lip.

‘Eh! Our Maggie, don't try to tell me that you would be without them kids.  I know you better than that.  You love every last one of them’.

‘Course I do Dora but what future do they have?  There’s no suitable work for Ellie, an the lads are learning nothing at school, cause they're not always there, and I can’t watch them every minute of the day, now can I?’

Maggie, her face sombre, held the mug in both hands and stared into it as if looking into a crystal ball.

‘I’ll tell
you one thing Dora.  There's none of mine going down the pit, and that’s for sure, not after the way Tom went’.

‘I can’t blame
you for that lass’, said Dora, shaking her head.

Thinking about Tom, Maggie smiled.

‘Eh!, Dora, I sometimes think it’s just as well Tom went when he did, otherwise, I would have had another four kids by now.  You know what a sod he was.  Eh! He loved his bed, and not just for sleeping in either’. 

She laughed out loud, throwing back her head.  After a few minutes, and with a ‘faraway’ look on her face, said softly, ‘oh I do miss him Dora’.

The accident happened six years before and Tom only twenty-nine years old.  It had been a ‘cave in’ at the pit and two other men had died with him.  The pit owners had sent Maggie his wage for the week.  That was
it
and nothing else. 

She thought she would never get over losing ‘her Tom’ but the kids
had
to eat, and crying wasn't going to feed them, so she had to do all she could to see that they were alright and put her own feelings to one side. 

Dora was good to her.  Almost every Monday, she would turn up on Magie's doorstep. 

‘Here’s some leftovers from my Sunday roast and a few vegetables’, she’d say.

However, most of the time they would ‘make do’ with what they could afford, which often meant Maggie going to bed hungry, but she tried to ensure that the kids had something, if it was only ‘fat and bread’.

Sitting there, watching the glowing embers of the fire, Maggie said, ‘I suppose I should thank my lucky stars that I get a bit of coal.  At least we can keep warm’.

‘Aye, but that's the only good thing to be said for working in the pit.  How the men stand it, I’ll never know.  Most of them don't see daylight till Saturday morning’.

‘Aye, and then they don't see much more till Monday because they spend the blooming weekend in the ale house’. 

They both fell about laughing. 

Ellie, sitting on the bedroom steps, had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from joining in.

She remembered ‘the day of the bad news’ as if it were yesterday. 

             
                                                                                                                                                                        ***

Maggie, on hearing that her husband was dead, at first said nothing.  It was as if the news had not registered, and then she had spoken, clearly and calmly. 

‘There must be some mistake.  My Tom is only twenty-nine.  It must be someone else’.

She had looked at Bob Radley as if he would change his mind and tell her that he had got the name wrong.  What he
did
say planted a look of horror on Maggie's face. 

‘I’m sorry lass.  It’s Tom all right.  I saw him myself and he hasn’t come up.  There’s Jim Lister and George Briggs down there and all.  They won't be coming out love’, he said. ‘None of
them will. I’m sorry'.

Ellie had heard her mother scream and watched as she ran down the street in the direction of the pit, her shawl flying, wildly, b
ehind her.

It was almost
midnight when Maggie returned.  She sat with the children and told them, as gently as possible, that their dad was not coming home. Since that night, she had never mentioned their father again, at least not to the children.

             
                                                                                                                                                                        ***

Ellie, now putting the finishing touches, of donkey stone, onto the windowsill, heard Maggie calling, her voice lacking the familiar sharpness.

‘Have you finished the ‘outsides’ Ellie?’

‘Yes Mam, just about’, she replied.  Looking up she was surprised to see her mother carrying two pots of tea.

Handing one to her daughter, she said, ‘here you are love, thought you might like a nice cuppa tea’.

Ellie took the pot and wondered what she had done to merit this kindness.  Her mother always sat on the step with a drink, when the work was done, but this was the first time she had included Ellie in this grown up ritual of ‘a cuppa’.

‘Thank you Mam’, she said.  

Suddenly, and with dread, she waited for her mother’s next words, knowing in her heart the reason for her mother’s generosity.

Maggie sipped her tea, and then gave a little cough.

‘I’ve been thinking Ellie’. 

Ellie held her breath, not wanting to hear.

‘About the job at the big house; h
ow do you fancy it?’

‘I don’t want to go Mother’, said Ellie, her eyes begging, ‘I don’t think I will fit in’.

Maggie’s voice hardened.

‘Oh
its Mother now is it?  Don’t think you'll fit in eh?  Well let me tell you ‘young madam’, you
will
go there and you
will
fit in, because I say so’.

‘But Mam....’
protested Ellie.  She could hardly believe what she was hearing.  She’d die; she knew she would, if she had to work in a ‘big house’ with all its strangers and unknown rules.

‘But nothing Ellie. 
You’ll go and that’s the end of it’.

Maggie looked at Ellie’s troubled face and with her tone less sharp, said,  ‘
you’d better get used to the idea love cause we can’t go on much longer as things are’.

Maggie did not look at Ellie, but down at her tea, and continued. ‘
You know, I don’t want you to go, don't you lass?  But things are getting worse, and soon we won’t be able to afford the little bit of food we have now.  Thomas tries but there's not much
he
can earn.  I have the washing but it’s only a pittance.  I can’t go out to work, even if there were any work around.  I have to be here for the young ones so you're the only one that can do it’. 

She finished by saying, ‘
you know that don’t you love?’

With great effort, Ellie tried to swallow the lump, rising in her throat, and whispered, ‘yes Mam, I know’. 

‘There’s a good lass Ellie’, murmured Maggie, getting up from the step and slowly going back inside the house.

Lying in bed that night Ellie silently wept, not wanting her mother to hear.  Later, she felt Maggie’s arm slip gently around her waist.  No words were spoken but Ellie felt the comfort of her mother’s love. At that moment, she loved her mother more than anyone else in the whole world, and finally, she drifted into a restless sleep.

Chapter Two

The following morning, after each of them had swallowed a mug of weak tea; they sat around the grate and toasted thick slices of bread for breakfast.  They rarely had butter but, occasionally, had beef fat, which they spread onto toast and considered a special treat.

‘I bet even the queen doesn’t have this for breakfast’. 

Harry mumbled the words, between licking his fingers and dropping breadcrumbs, which cascaded down his ragged jumper.

‘No I don’t suppose she does’, said Maggie, ‘and don’t talk with your mouth full.  Anyone would think
you wasn’t brought up proper’.

She swung her hand towards him but Harry managed to duck and the intended slap swished through the air. 

‘That’s you first piece of good luck today Harry’, laughed Thomas, then felt his mother’s hand strike the back of his bare leg.

‘And here’s
your
first piece of bad luck, you little Sod’, yelled Maggie.

‘Awe Mam.  I was only joking.  I didn’t mean nothing, honest’.  Thomas rubbed his legs and searched for the customary red handprint.

‘
That
, my lad, will teach you to make jokes then, won’t it?’ 

With that comment, Maggie picked up the empty mugs and put them into the stone sink and they all knew that breakfast time was now over and their Saturday work had begun.

Although Thomas had just had breakfast, he had already been out early, collecting, and chopping firewood.  He was paid one penny for each of the bundles, at the big houses.  Snob Hill was in fact, Thornton Avenue and occupied by wealthy business people, most of them Mill owners.  If he only sold two bundles at
that
price his mother could buy half a stone of potatoes.

There were many residents who simply shut the door in his face and some who said, in their ‘haughty voices’, ‘the residents do not purchase goods at the door’, and then the door would be firmly slammed.  When this happened, Thomas would say, quietly, ‘snobby sods’. 

He liked to swear, knowing that his mother would not suddenly appear behind him and clip his ear.

Whilst the boys were busy outside, tying up the wood, Maggie and Ellie started on the housework.  Ellie's first job was to get the large pan of water, already bubbling on the hob, and start washing the breakfast things along with a pan or two from the previous night’s meal.  Meanwhile, her mother started ‘black-leading’ the large fireplace.

The fireplace was the central point of the room and every Saturday, without fail, Maggie preached to her daughter, in a ‘sing song’ voice.

‘The fireplace is the most important part of any family and as to be kept in good working order’.  She glanced at Ellie, ‘are
you listening to me?’

‘Yes Mam, I am’, said Ellie knowing just what was coming next.

Maggie went on.

‘Not only does it keep the room warm but boils the kettle and cooks the veg, cooks the stew and bakes the bread an then it warms the bricks for the beds. 
And
most important of all.  The mantelpiece holds all the family heirlooms’.  

Maggie, not for the first time, laughed loudly at the same old joke.

Ellie had to laugh too because it was nice to hear her mother’s laughter, a sound, all too rare these days.

‘Sometimes you make me laugh Mam’, she said, working on the large iron pans.

‘Aye lass an sometimes I make you cry’.

Ellie turned to look at her mother but remained silent. 

Maggie did not stop her polishing but looked over her shoulder at her daughter. 

‘
You know Ellie; you're getting to be a fine girl.  Aye, and you’ve got a bonny face; I'll not deny it.  But you’re fifteen now, nearly a grown woman and you're going to have to watch yourself around these parts.  Don’t think I don't see them ‘rag-bag little buggers’ making eyes at you.  I know what they’re after.  Well I want none of that, do you hear?  I want better things for you Ellie’.

Ellie felt her face ‘colouring up’ as she scoured the pans all the harder.  She had noticed lately that the local lads were taking more notice of her and she just ignored them but she had no idea what they were after, as her mother had indicated.  Oh she knew about things that married people did but she was only a girl, so it couldn’t be that.

‘I never talk to the boys Mam.  Never’, she said, her head still bent over her chore.

‘Well, just think about what I’ve said.  Mark my words Ellie, you'll never get better advice’, and, with that, she scrubbed the hearth with renewed
vigour.

The family had only the one room downstairs, in which they cooked, ate, washed and entertained.  If indeed you could call it ‘entertaining’.  The odd
neighbour and Aunt Dora of course.

It was a big room, with a sash cord window, in front of which Ellie was now working.  In daylight hours the window was always open, a little, no matter what the weather.  Today was no exception.  Ellie’s hands were cold, in spite of the warm water she was using. 

When she had cleared all the pots and pans’ away, she ladled the remaining soapy water into a bucket and proceeded to wash the flagged floor.  She hated this part of her job as the water had become cool and, every so often, her hands came into contact with particles of food from the washing up.  She tried to ignore this, but found it offensive and shivered at each repulsive touch.

‘The queen could eat her tea off my fireplace’, said Maggie standing back and surveying the shining fireplace with satisfaction. 

She immediately went over to the window and took down the piece of muslin, which passed for a curtain. 

‘They can say what they like about me but no-one can ever say I don’t keep a clean house’.

They worked on until midday and were just about to place their dinner, of bread and cheese, on the bleached white table, when Aunt Dora entered, clutching a large jug of stout.

‘
Eh! Maggie, you house looks a treat.  It always does, every time I come here.  I don’t know how you manage to keep it so spic and span, with all you have on you mind, I don't really’.

‘We do the best we can Dora’, replied Maggie, throwing a knowing look at her daughter. 
Ellie held her head down in order to stifle the laugh, which, threatened to burst out.

‘Well I must say it’s a sight cleaner than mine
and no mistake’, exclaimed Dora, looking first one way then another.

‘Aye Dora, but yours is a sight richer than mine, so I expect that makes us even’.

Dora smiled, hesitantly, never knowing for certain when her sister was joking. 

Ellie took two mugs down from the shelf, for the stout, and placed them on the table.  ‘Do you want me to go out for a while, Mam?’

She knew that her mother would want to talk to Aunt Dora about the job at the big house and Ellie didn’t want to think about it, let alone, listen to all the details.

Her mother patted her hand and said, ‘Nay lass, I want
you to stay.  If you old enough to go out to work, you old enough to join the ‘grown ups’.  

She turned around just in time to see her sister's brows rise and her eyes widen.

‘What do you mean Maggie?  There isn’t a job around here for anyone at the moment, let alone you’re Ellie’.

‘She’s going into service’, said Maggie.  The words sent a shiver of anxiety down Ellie’s spine.

‘Eh never!  You said, all along, you wouldn’t let her work until she could get a good job.  What’s happened to change you mind?’ Dora spluttered, in disbelief.

‘It can't be helped Dora, we'll not hold together much longer if someone doesn't bring some real money in soon, an
d that’s a fact’.

Dora was
flabbergasted.

‘Well I never!’ she said, ‘b
ut I expect you have no choice, otherwise, you wouldn’t let her go, would you?’  

Maggie looked down at her hands.  ‘
You know how much I want for Ellie, don't you?  She's a bonny lass and I don't want to see her go the way a lot of them do around here’.

‘
You mean ‘the family way’?’ whispered Dora, ‘your Ellie would never do
that
, and you know it.  Eh! whatever are you thinking of Maggie?’

‘Well, it has been known Dora, it’s not only the flighty girls that ‘fall on’
you know.  Innocent young girls get caught, and sometimes, without knowing how’.

‘I suppose
you right’, Dora agreed.

‘Aye, I am right, an
d it’s not going to happen to my Ellie’, said Maggie, taking a swig of the stout. 

‘This stout’s a bit
flat Dora, tastes like they’ve had it in a few years’.

Dora thought,
well, as you would say yourself Maggie, 'beggars can't be choosers
'. But she dare not say it.

‘Anyway, as I was saying ‘, Maggie went on, ‘they’re very strict with them in them big houses
you know, but they eat well and sometimes they give them clothes to wear.  She’ll get used to it and it’ll keep her out of trouble’. 

She stopped talking long enough to notice that Ellie was a peculiar colour and very near to tears.  Maggie dare not show any softening of attitude now, so remarked, sharply, ‘well Ellie, say what
you want to say and get it over with’.

Ellie’s tears spilled down onto her soiled blouse as she blurted out her distress.

‘You’re talking as if I were not in the room.  I feel I am just an object instead of a human being.  I hate the thought of going into service.  It’s not what I want for myself Mother’.

‘I see we’re back to ‘Mother’ again,
eh?’  Maggie made to raise her hand but something in Ellie's manner warned her that this was not a time to lash out in her usual way.  Instead she took a long gulp of the stout and said, ‘well you going and that’s that’.

Dora put her arms around Ellie and tried to give her comfort. ‘There, there lass, don’t take on so, you’ll be alright, you’ll see’.

Ellie got to her feet, ‘I'll go to the ‘big house’ because I see no other way, but I will not always be a maid Mother, you’ll see’.  Ellie ran upstairs away from her mother’s shocked eyes.

‘Well I never’, said Maggie, shaking her head,
‘I never thought our Ellie had it in her to talk that way.  Well, well, well’.

‘She’s growing up Maggie’, said Dora, ‘and she’s always been a bit different from the rest, if
you know what I mean?’

Maggie looked thoughtful, ‘I know what
you mean Dora, she thinks highly of herself.  Tom was like that an all, always thought he were better than his mates but life brought him down with a bump.  I just hope Ellie won’t get hurt too much when it happens to her because she’s a good lass and deserves a better life’.

‘Aye Maggie, same as you do’.

They continued to talk but Maggie kept seeing Ellie’s sad face and wished she didn't have to take her to the ‘big house’. 
But needs must and that’s that
, she thought, then pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind.