‘Meg, I’m sorry. I haven’t slept all night for worrying, and I shouldn’t have stolen,’ Sarah whispered as her older sister left her side in the darkness of the early morning and pulled the bedcovers back over her.
‘It’s all right, just don’t do it again. I know you were hungry. I am all the time. That’s why I have to work for Ted Lund, but hopefully I’ll earn enough to keep us fed if nothing else.’ Meg pulled her stockings on and her dress over her head then turned to kiss her younger sister as she snuggled back under the covers.
‘I’ll go to the market this morning before school and give Mike his letter and apologize,’ Sarah said sleepily, her mind easy now that she had made peace with her big sister.
‘You do that and make sure Mam has everything she needs before leaving, but go back to sleep now. It’s still early and it’s raining.’ Meg looked down at her sister and sighed. At least she had admitted that she was in the wrong after a good night’s sleep.
The rain was coming down in torrents as she walked along the empty street to where Ted Lund lived. Lights were starting to appear in some of the terraced house windows but it would be another good few hours before the streets came alive. She felt like a drenched rat as she stood on the doorstep of Ted’s house where no light was showing as she knocked on the door and shouted up at the bedroom window.
The bedroom window rattled open. ‘Hold your noise, I’ll be down with you in a minute. You’re awakening the dead with your bellowing!’ Ted yelled down then slammed the window back down, leaving Meg shivering on the step for at least ten minutes before he appeared out of the battered front door of his terraced home.
‘You’ve made me come out with nowt in my belly, in your rush for me to open up. You can put the kettle on and make a brew as soon as we get to the bakery. I’m worth nowt until I’ve had a drink of tea and something in my belly,’ Ted growled as he pushed past her and walked at speed along the street to the bakery.
‘I’m sorry but you told me to knock of you; I was only doing as I was told,’ Meg retorted.
‘Aye, well, I’m not used to being roused in such a way. I’d forgotten that I’d asked you.’ Ted jangled his keys in his pocket and fished them out to open the doors to the bakery. Once inside he lit a vesta from his case and lit the oil lamp in the shop before walking through to the bakery with Meg following him.
‘Get the rest of the lights lit and fill the kettle, and I’ll stoke up the fire and ovens,’ Ted yawned. He looked dishevelled and half undressed as he dragged the dry kindling onto the fire and riddled out the old ashes left from the baking on Saturday out of the ovens.
The shop and bakery were cold and unwelcoming in the lamplight but in another hour it would be warm and full of the smell of baking, but an hour was a long time. Meg stood soaked through to her skin, hair dripping as she made her way out into the yard, with Ted not giving her a second glance as he mumbled and groaned to himself.
Once filled, Meg hung the kettle on the hook above the fire that Ted had now got going and quickly warmed her hands for a brief second. Then she went into the shop to get a loaf of stale bread from out of the shop display, thinking that if she fed Ted, happen he’d not be as grumpy.
‘What have you brought that through here for?’ Ted looked at her with an annoyed look on his face.
‘I thought you were hungry; I’d make you some toast before we start baking,’ Meg said quickly.
‘You can think again if you think I’ll eat that. It’s all right for them out there.’ Ted nodded his head towards the shop. ‘But you’ll not get me eating that stuff. I’ve brought my own, there are two slices of bread with jam on it in my pocket, that’ll do me. I take it you have already had something. Now, get a move on and get that mixing dish, flour, and the rest and this time don’t forget the sawdust in your mix. I’ll be watching you.’
Meg dried out as she followed Ted’s instructions, mixing the ingredients then kneading the dough. She stood back and looked at her morning’s work and felt pride in her job. Ted had not even given her a second glance this morning, so she presumed it was acceptable to him as she patted her hands free of flour.
‘I suppose that looks all right. Now here, take this brush and give the shop a sweep and wipe the counter; you left it in a terrible state on Saturday. You tidy up after yourself today, do you hear?’
Ted shoved the brush in her hand then reached for the only comfortable chair in the bakery and sat down in front of the fire and closed his eyes. If it hadn’t have been for Meg knocking on his door he would have still been in his bed, but he’d still have managed to get his bread baked in time for the morning rush. After all, it was only straightforward bread he baked nowadays. Gone were the days when he made spiced fruit teacakes, crumpets and scones, which lapped up lashings of butter when still warm. Folk never asked for them, so why should he bother himself making them.
Meg bit her tongue as she took the brush from his hand and watched him sit in his chair and warm his hands once again. He’d told her as clear as day not to bother sweeping up as she had left on Saturday. He was nothing but a cantankerous old man and he didn’t deserve to be given the time of day. However, she would put up with his ways because she needed the money – not that any payment had been mentioned since she had arrived. She just hoped that come the end of the week, he would pay her what she was owed.
Meg put her back into sweeping the floor, reaching into every corner that had not been swept clear for months if not years. Crumbs and litter were abundant, and in one corner she found a long-since deceased mouse that had mummified because it had been there so long. There were obvious signs of more recent visitors, with mouse droppings on the floor, and she felt filthy and itchy as she swept the remains and the rubbish up onto a shovel before taking it into the bakehouse to show Ted Lund, who had now divided the dough and was placing the loaves into the warm ovens.
‘You’ve got mice!’ Meg said and showed Ted the remains of the mouse and all the rubbish that she had swept up.
‘There will always be mice where there are bread and flour, that’s nowt new. I put down poison, but the little buggers still come back. What do you expect when folk live as they do? These back-to-back houses are full of vermin, and they are ideal breeding grounds. A dead mouse is nowt compared to some things in Leeds. The canal is the worst – they find dead horses in it regularly. Folk take them when they are dead and drag them in rather than take them to the knacker’s yard. I often see them being dragged out,’ Ted said as he shoved the next batch to be baked into the oven.
‘But we deal with food, we should keep all clean!’ Meg said and looked around her. ‘We have got to stop the mice from coming in. I need to set some traps and to mop the floor; I think the shop will smell sweeter for a good clean and the mice gone.’
‘You do, do you? I don’t think so, as we’ve no mop and no traps. Poison see’s to the vermin. Now throw that rubbish on the fire and go and serve on behind the counter and shift Saturday’s bread before anything else. Do as I say – it’s what I’ll be paying you for if you are still with me by the end of the week.’ Ted placed the last batch of bread on the long flat shovel and placed it into the oven to bake. ‘Go on, that was the shop doorbell, folk is waiting for you,’ he added, said sharply as the shop bell rang, stopping Meg from arguing with him as she watched the mouse being cremated on the open fire before turning around and making her way to the shop where a customer was waiting.
‘I don’t usually get my bread from here, but I’ve no option this morning. The bakery down Inkerman Street is where I usually go. His bread is a lot fresher and the place is cleaner,’ the little woman who stood in front of Meg commented. ‘I’ve had to come here. My Jamie is ill this morning and I don’t want to leave him for too long, I fear that it’s scarlet fever, he’s covered head to toe in a rash. Mr Brown would never forgive me if I brought him scarlet fever, but if Ted Lund gets it, it would be no loss to anyone. I didn’t know he had you serving on!’ the woman continued and then pointed to one of Saturday’s leftover loaves, not giving Meg time to reply. ‘I’ll have one of those, I suppose it will be as dry as my bum, but my old man will have to make do with it if he wants something in his bate this morning.’
‘Sorry, the fresh bread is on its way but not quite ready yet.’ Meg reached for the best-looking loaf and wrapped it up for her customer.
‘It would happen help if Ted got himself up in a morning; his wife must be turning in her grave, poor woman. She used to run this shop like clockwork. All would be clean and there would be doilies out on the shelves with all sorts of baking on them. She knew how to do business! She’d have sold this old stale stuff off cheap at the end of the day or given it to them that couldn’t afford to buy it. She was a grand woman. Just what she saw in that miserable old bugger I don’t know. A penny is it, or will you take a ha’penny seeing it’s at least a day old?’ The woman looked at Meg and waited for a reply.
‘A penny please; I daren’t charge you a ha’penny else Mr Lund will have something to say.’ Meg looked embarrassed as she took the coin and put it in the till quickly, thinking of Jamie who had scarlet fever as she did so.
‘Aye, well it was worth a try. I’m Jenny Pratt, I live further down the street. You must try and get the old bugger to smarten himself up and put a bit of pride back into this place. Everyone used to shop here. It can be a good business given a bit of love and care. Now you take care and I hope that I haven’t passed on my Jamie’s disease to you,’ Jenny said, then hearing Ted coming into the shop, quickly made for the door before she had to talk to him.
‘Was that Jenny Pratt? What’s wrong with her, who’s ill in her family today? She always has someone nearly on death’s bed, a right hypochondriac she is,’ Ted said with a sarcastic tone to his voice.
‘She says her Jamie has scarlet fever; I hope not, else she will be spreading it to everyone,’ Meg replied and looked at the loaves of bread that were now freshly baked and smelled wonderful, despite their added ingredient, as Ted placed them on the glass shelves of the counter.
‘He’ll not, so don’t you worry about it. It’s all in her head. She worries about everything. Everything that she shouldn’t worry about. She should be worrying about where her husband gets to of an evening as he wanders the canal side mixing with the women down there. She needs to look at what diseases he’ll be bringing home with him, instead of worrying about the ones that she hasn’t got.’ Ted noticed a blush come to Meg’s cheeks as she finished placing the bread on the shelves. ‘Remember the old bread goes first, no matter how they complain.’ Then he turned and left Meg to serve the customers that would soon be with them as the light of day appeared over the houses and chimney tops and the sound of the machinery in the nearby mills filled the air.
Meg stood and looked around her. It was quiet yet, so she decided to look in the many drawers that were built into the shelves behind her, wondering what delights were within them. It sounded by what Mrs Pratt had said, that the long-gone Mrs Lund had indeed taken pride in her work. Perhaps there were still things that could be re-used in the drawers if she could persuade Ted to use them.
The first few drawers were a disappointment: the remains of empty packets of currants and raisins which even the mice had abandoned because they had gone old and musty. The following shelf of drawers was filled with spices, nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon, caraway seeds and cloves, all preserved and safely kept in small bottles. If they still smelt and tasted fresh they could be re-used, she thought, as she closed the drawers and reached for the stepladders that leaned against the bakehouse doorway so that she could climb to the top tier of drawers and see what was within them.
She carefully picked her skirts up and made her way to the top of the steps and started to open the drawers. Jenny had been right; there within lay delicate paper doilies that looked like lace. How pretty they must have looked when placed along the glass shelves with baking displayed on them, she thought, as she carefully picked them up and then replaced them. The next drawer disclosed handwritten signs delicately illustrated with birds and roses around the names of loved confectionery. Cream Horns, Eclairs, Scones, Caraway Cake, Shortbread; the little signs had obviously gone next to the goods that had been baked that day.
The bakery must have been wonderful in its heyday and the smells must have been heavenly, Meg thought as she fingered them before putting them back into the drawer. It felt like she was intruding into the past life of Eleanor and Myra Lund and perhaps opening something that was as well left in the past, a distant memory of the bakery when it was supported and loved by everyone.
The shop bell went and Meg turned around quickly, nearly falling from off the top of the steps as her thoughts were interrupted.
‘I’d be careful up there. Old Ted can look straight up your skirts if he comes and stands behind you. It’ll give him a heart attack, seeing bloomers and ankles like those.’ Daisy Truelove laughed and stood back as Meg cautiously climbed down the steps.
‘You might be able to see my ankles, but you can’t see my bloomers, or at least I hope not!’ Meg said as she hastily brushed her skirts down and placed the steps to one side as she looked across the counter at Daisy who stood with her hands on her hips grinning at her.
‘Yes, I was only joking, but you could see your ankles. Shocking, you know, you will be getting a name for yourself if you’re not careful! Not that I’m bothered by what folk think. You should hear some of the conversations and sights that go on at the mill, the women are worse than some of the men.’ Daisy grinned.
‘Have you come for your bread? The newly baked has just come in, so I can give you a fresh loaf.’ Meg reached for a new loaf and started to wrap it in tissue paper for Daisy.
‘I’m more than grateful; his stale bread is not worth eating. What I really want to know is, what are the chewy bits that you sometimes get in old Ted’s bread? Nobody else tastes like that and it lays heavy in your stomach unlike other bakers. It never used to be like that.’ Daisy passed her money over to Meg and took hold of her bread.
‘I don’t know, I can’t help you. He doesn’t let me know what he puts into his bread, but I presume it is the usual flour, yeast and water – that’s all it can be,’ Meg said, feeling uneasy about lying to Daisy.
‘Oh well, it must be the flour that he uses. I just wondered, that’s all.’ Daisy looked at Meg. ‘You’ve decided to be a glutton for punishment and stay the course then. I don’t know which is the worse: working in a mill or working for Ted – both of us will never get any recognition no matter how good a job we do,’ Daisy smiled.
‘Yes, I need the money, my mother’s ill and I’ve got a younger sister who needs my help,’ Meg sighed.
‘No father then? I have, but I keep clear of him most of the time. He’s usually too tired to bother with any of us, he’s working down on the cut, loading the barges. That is when he’s not having a drink. My ma says she should never have married him and wouldn’t have done it if my brother Joe hadn’t have been on the way. She always blames him, although he’s a good’en is our Joe. She’ll blame me and have something to say for not getting back with this on time if I don’t get a move on.’ Daisy grinned. ‘Why don’t I call for you on Saturday afternoon? I finish at the mill at one, same as you here. We could have a stroll around the shops together, have a look down the new arcade in the centre, and reckon that we are somebody. Mind it will only be a look, I’ve no brass and I take it you haven’t,’ Daisy chuckled.
‘I’d love to, but I can’t. My mam… my mam is not good. I don’t think she’s long for this world.’ Meg felt a lump coming in her throat and fought back the tears as she looked at Daisy holding the door ajar ready to go on her way.
‘Bloody hell, no wonder you need this job. That’s hard on you. Look, I’ll have to go, but I’ll be in again before Saturday. Perhaps a walk up into Leeds isn’t right for you but you could come and see me at home or I’ll come to you. It would be nice to get to know one another.’ Daisy’s smile faded as the mill whistle started to blow. She’d yet to return home with the bread, she was cutting things fine. ‘Lord, I’ll have to go, I can’t get my pay docked again for being late. I’ll see you shortly, Meg.’ She banged the bakery door to and ran along the streets with her bread in her hands.
Meg watched as she went on her way. She had a feeling that she and Daisy were going to be good friends if given a chance and time to get to know one another.
The rest of the day went quite quickly and Meg enjoyed the customers coming and going. She already recognized one or two of them who had called in on Saturday. Some were surprised that she was still working there, knowing all too well Ted’s way, and others passed the time of day with her if they had the time to do so. She was starting to learn all their needs and quirks, she thought, as she walked back home, weary but satisfied. However, she also knew that a lot more could be done with the shop to make it better. Tomorrow, if her mother would let her, she would take the mop and bucket with her, despite the moans and looks from Ted. At least the shop floor would be clean.
The thought of mice running around the place and the customers paying for doctored bread lay heavy on her mind. How could Ted treat his customers and neighbours with such indifference? Meg sighed as she opened the kitchen door of her home and shouted ‘I’m home!’ without even looking up from the step. The house was quiet, the fire had not been lit and it looked as if nobody had touched any of the bread and jam that she had set out for her mother and Sarah. Meg held her breath fearing the worst; she knew her mother would pass away shortly, but not yet Lord, not just yet! Then from above, a voice called.
‘I’m still in my bed, Meg, I didn’t bother getting up, I was tired and Sarah saw herself to school early on. She said she was going to the market to apologize. Your lecture must not have fallen on deaf ears after all. She’s not a bad lass really.’
‘All right, Mam, I’ll come up in a second. I’ll just light the fire and then we can have a brew. Our Sarah could have made sure it was lit before she went.’
Meg looked at the empty fireplace. There was just enough broken wood from the market boxes and coal to last them until evening, and she hoped that Roger Ingram would be true to his word and deliver some broken crates from the market as promised. Once she had seen to her mother, she would go and have a quick walk along the railway bank and hope that no railway worker would catch her while she scoured the banks for any coal that had been lost when shovelled from the tender to the engine. It was a dangerous way of keeping warm, but the coal was free if you weren’t caught and it only took her up to ten minutes to get a good bucketful some days if she was lucky.
‘Aye, Meg, her head was filled with other things this morning. Don’t sound so cross,’ Agnes shouted down.
‘I’ll try not to, Mam, I’m just tired and could do with relying on Sarah for a few simple things, like lighting the fire and backing it up before she goes to school. Never mind as she has saved fuel but I’ll see to that shortly.’
Meg looked around her. The small room was cold and miserable, it was still raining outside and now she would have to go back out into the damp miserable day once her mother was fed and watered. Life was not fair. Why had she not been born into a better life, a life with money and graces? She didn’t need a lot, just enough for a comfortable life for her and her family. With that she would be satisfied, she thought, as she watched the packing crate splinters start to spit and take hold of the flames that she had lit. At least they would be warm this afternoon and there was enough tea for a drink and some bacon for supper.
Things could be worse. She should be grateful for what she already had instead of moaning, she thought, or do something more about the situation the family was in, but just what, she didn’t quite know.