It was the furthest Lacey had ever travelled: sixty odd miles to the east coast resort of Scarborough for a honeymoon lasting three days; a rather grand idea, for neither her parents nor Joan, nor any of Lacey’s married friends had had the luxury of a three day holiday in a hotel by the sea. Day trips to seaside towns being the norm for the inhabitants of Garsthwaite, it was almost unheard of to stay overnight in a hotel.
They arrived at lunchtime, having travelled by train from Huddersfield to Leeds and then to Scarborough, a new experience for Lacey. Although the town still bore the scars of war inflicted by German gunboats the previous December, it did not detract from Lacey and Nathan’s pleasure, however, it did make the war seem uncomfortably close to Garsthwaite.
‘We tend to think the fighting only takes place in foreign places, but here it was almost on our doorstep.’
‘It was a filthy, cowardly act,’ said Nathan as they walked the short distance from the railway station to their hotel. ‘The Germans sailed in under cover of a fog bank, firing volley after volley of shells into a defenceless little town. It’s fortunate it happened in winter when there were fewer visitors – even so several people lost their lives, children included.’
‘Oh look!’ cried Lacey, as they walked past the wreckage of the fine building that had been the Grand Hotel, ‘I see what you mean. A place like this would have been full of people in summer—’ she paused thoughtfully. ‘Fancy, coming on holiday and ending up dead at the hands of the Germans.’
‘The Germans show no respect for the laws of war; men, women and children, it’s all the same to them.’ He slowed his pace, and taking Lacey’s elbow he ushered her up the steps into a large hotel.
Impressed by the fine Victorian façade and the atrium with its marble pillars and sweeping staircase, Lacey felt slightly overwhelmed. Fidgeting nervously whilst Nathan spoke to the receptionist, she couldn’t help but smile when she heard him ask for Mr and Mrs Nathan Brearley’s accommodation: Mrs Nathan Brearley; she’d have to get used to that name. Her joy was complete when she saw the beautifully appointed bedroom with its quilt laden four poster and views over the sea front.
After they had eaten a rather sparse ham salad, they walked the high, rocky promontory jutting into the North Sea to visit the castle. As they wandered through the ruins Lacey imagined the inhabitants of long ago and the events shaping their lives, awestruck by the timelessness of it all. On the cliff edge she watched the eternal ebb and flow of the tide, waves crashing on the rocks below.
‘I’d have liked to have been a pirate queen,’ she said, recalling a story from her childhood.
Nathan laughed. ‘Ever the renegade, Lacey: not for you the lady promenading with parasol in hand but a woman with fire in her soul, giving orders to her motley crew.’
‘I’d have been a pirate who smuggled in goods to help poor people, those who couldn’t afford to pay the tax on tea, tobaccy and brandy, and silk to make dresses. I’d have let them have it cheap so they had some of the comforts the rich folk had.’
‘Now you’re sounding more like Robin Hood.’
Lacey grinned at the comparison, then, her tone serious, added, ‘There’s a great divide between rich and poor which must be narrowed if we’re to make the world a fairer place. I know there has to be leaders, men and women with greater acumen than the rest of us, but there should be no place for cruelty and deliberately imposed hardships. That’s what I hate most.’
Nathan drew her close, kissing the top of her head. ‘I suppose you’ll still continue to fight for your beliefs now you’re a married woman – one who will very shortly be left alone.’ His voice expressed his misgivings; he didn’t like to think of Lacey embroiled in Union activity, challenging adversaries – or alienating his father – without him there to protect her. ‘You don’t have to work in the Mill now we’re married. My allowance will keep you.’
Lacey eased back and gazed up at him, her expression thoughtful. ‘I’ll not give it up immediately; not until we’ve addressed certain issues but…’ Sounding wistfully earnest, she added, ‘I do have my own ambitions. I want to make something of myself, Nathan.’ Before he could respond, she pulled him close, crying, ‘But hey! We’re on our honeymoon so no more serious talk, Mr Brearley. Let’s make these three days a joy to remember.’
Shadows lengthening, they walked back to the hotel, Lacey’s thoughts straying to the night ahead. She wanted to make love with Nathan; she just wasn’t sure how to go about it and, more to the point, she wasn’t sure Nathan did either. He’d never hinted at a close relationship with any other woman. Still, thought Lacey, as they made their way up to the bedroom after eating a hearty evening dinner in the hotel dining room, we can learn together.
And they did.
Lolling against the plump feather pillows Lacey contemplated how amazingly gratifying it had been. Having heard the women at work grumble at having to satisfy their husband’s conjugal rights, she had expected to be subjected to discomfort, even terrible pain. How wrong she had been. Nathan’s gentle caresses had aroused her to such a pitch that everything that came afterwards had seemed second nature, the most natural and beautiful thing in the world. After that first night, lovemaking was as effortless as drawing breath.
Their town pallor blown away by bracing sea breezes, Lacey and Nathan returned to Garsthwaite and the house in Towngate, eager to settle down as a married couple even if it was only for a few days. On Nathan’s last night at home, in the sparsely furnished bedroom, he noticed that his usually talkative wife had not spoken for some time. Concerned, he asked, ‘What are you thinking about, Lacey?’
Lacey sighed. ‘I was thinking how much I’ll miss you when you’re gone.’
‘Not as much as I’ll miss you: you’ve completely changed my life. Just let’s hope nothing untoward happens to me whilst I’m away.’ Nathan kissed her, Lacey aware of how much she would miss his kisses, his company and their lovemaking. They climbed into bed, luxuriating in what, for the foreseeable future, was their last night together. Afterwards, they lay entwined, hearts beating in tandem, minds filled with dread.
Nathan reached up and stroked Lacey’s glorious tumble of hair. ‘I swear you are the most wonderful creature I ever set eyes on. I’ll carry your image in my heart wherever they send me. You have brought me more joy than I thought possible, and if this should be our last night together, the memories of the time we’ve shared will sustain me until the day I die.’
Lacey shuddered. Pressing her fingers to his lips, the thought of losing him left her barely able to breathe, let alone speak. Finding her voice, she whispered, ‘I love you more than life itself. From when we first met I knew we were meant to share the rest of our lives together and,’ Lacey’s words rang with utter conviction, ‘we will, Nathan, we will. I’ll live every day with the certainty you’ll come back to me.’
Clinging to one another they fell into dreamless sleep.
*
Lacey wakened later than usual the following morning, Nathan’s warm, hard body pressed close to hers. Moving carefully so as not to wake him she rested on one elbow, gazing down into the adored face. He looked more handsome than ever, his features chiselled, his skin tanned from the long hours he’d spent out in the open air during training.
Tomorrow, Lacey thought, I’ll wake and find him gone: to where and for how long only God knows. She leaned over and brushed her lips against his. Nathan stirred, a smile stretching his mouth under hers. He opened his eyes and gazed lovingly into Lacey’s then, gently rolling her over onto her back he made love to her, slowly, sweetly and tenderly. They stayed like this for several minutes, drinking in every detail of each other’s face and, as though to imprint them on their memories, with hands and lips they fixed the sense of touch and taste.
Before Nathan went away, he again raised the matter of Lacey not returning to work at the mill. ‘No Nathan, I’m not ready to leave just yet,’ she told him, ‘the issue of equal pay for equal work has yet to be resolved. I want to be there when it is. Once I start something I have to see it through to the end.’
*
Four days after Nathan’s departure Lacey practically ran all the way to Netherfold, so eager was she to shake off the emptiness of the house in Towngate. In the yard, she clapped her hands to shoo away the gaggle of geese standing sentry outside the kitchen door. The geese stood fast, riveting her with their baleful, beady eyes. Lacey tried again, this time waving her arms and hallooing. Her cries brought Edith to the door.
She laughed heartily at the sight of the geese barring Lacey’s entrance then dismissed them with a sharp flick of the wrist and a few well chosen words. Lifting their wings, the geese haughtily turned tail and flapped across the yard.
Now it was Lacey’s turn to laugh. ‘It’s well they do as their mistress tells ‘em; they took no notice of me.’
Edith grinned. ‘As good as guard dogs, they are. There’s not many ‘ud get past that lot.’
‘Don’t I know it. I’ve missed having the backs of my legs nipped black an’ blue since I moved to Towngate.’
Edith led the way into the kitchen, Lacey breathing in the familiar smells. She loved the house in Towngate but Netherfold still felt like home.
‘How do, Lacey, luv.’ Matt, on his hands and knees in the middle of the kitchen floor, smiled up at her. ‘Say hello to your Auntie Lacey,’ he urged the toddler kneeling beside him.
Lacey smiled down at the bonny, blonde child. ‘Eeh, if I’d known David was here I’d have brought sweets.’
‘No need,’ Matt said, ‘me Dad buys a shop full every weekend.’ He lifted David to his feet. ‘Let’s take Auntie Lacey into t’parlour to your Mam an’ Granpa Jos.’ David toddled off, Matt behind him.
‘I’ll come in a minute,’ Lacey called after them. ‘I want a word with Mam.’
Alone with Edith, Lacey said, ‘I think our Matt’s in love. I’ve never seen him so happy.’
‘Me neither,’ said Edith, smiling fondly. ‘Molly’s good for him. She’s a lovely lass, an’ our Matt adores little David.’ Edith piled home-cooked ham and tomato sandwiches on a plate. Lacey put cups on a tray whilst Edith mashed the tea then set out a homemade cake. ‘It’s only plain sponge,’ said Edith, clucking her tongue, ‘there’s no dried fruit to be had these days. I’m not short of butter an’ eggs but sugar an’ flour are getting scarcer by the week what with all this carry on wi’ t’Germans.’
Lacey thought of the solitary tea she would otherwise have eaten in Towngate. ‘It’s grand, Mam, an’ as long as you have your own hens an’ your friends with cows to keep you in butter, we’ll not starve.’ She filled a jug with milk and placed the sugar bowl on the tray. ‘I’m glad I invited Molly to my wedding, otherwise Matt would never have met her.’
‘So am I,’ Edith replied, ‘I shouldn’t wonder but what they’ll get married in a year or so. They have to wait a while ‘cos it’s not a year since her husband wa’ killed.’ Edith lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I don’t think she grieved him too much. It wasn’t a happy marriage from what I can make out. It seems he wa’ a boozer and quick wi’ his fists.’
‘She’ll notice a difference with our Matt then. He’s as steady and softhearted as anybody I know.’
Edith nodded agreement. ‘It’s good to see you all settled. Even our Jimmy, bless him, seems content. His regiment’s moving to the south coast in a week or two and,’ her voice wobbled, ‘he thinks France will be the next stop.’
An involuntary shudder made the crockery on the tray in Lacey’s hands clink noisily. She placed it back on the table. ‘For all I know, Nathan could be there already,’ she said, ‘I haven’t heard from him since he went back. Let’s hope we stay lucky. Stanley hasn’t come to any harm as yet, thank God, although he’s in some awful place in France, up to his knees in mud and muck. Joan worries about him something shocking and I don’t blame her. Maybe the war’ll end soon and they’ll all come home safe.’ She sounded dreadfully sad.
Edith frowned. ‘Are you settling in Towngate, luv? You must be awfully lonely all by yourself in that big house. You could have stayed on here.’
‘I know, but I love the house; and there’s so much to do. I’ve sewed new curtains and cushions since you last visited. They really brighten the place up,’ Lacey said, her forced cheerfulness not escaping Edith’s notice.
Throwing up her hands in exasperation, she said, ‘Eeh, that pot o’ tea’ll a gone cold. I’ll have to brew another.’
The pot replenished, mother and daughter went through to the parlour where Joshua, Matt, Molly and young David awaited them.
‘I wa’ beginning to wonder where you’d got to,’ said Joshua. ‘What kept you?’
Edith flicked her eyes in Lacey’s direction and shook her head, the frown on her face begging Joshua not to expect an answer. She’d confide in him later.
For the next hour, in the comfort of Netherfold, Lacey was almost her old self but all too soon it was time to return to Towngate.
Lacey put on her coat. ‘I’d best be off.’
‘Nay, you can stay a bit a longer, can’t you?’ Joshua, suspecting all was not well, was concerned for his only daughter. Throughout the past hour she’d done her best to appear happy but the spark had gone out of her. Where was the funny, cocky, spirited girl he loved?
Her coat buttoned, her bag in her hand, Lacey shook her head. ‘Best not. I might get too comfortable.’ She didn’t want to worry her parents by letting them know how dreadfully lonely she was in the rambling house in Towngate.
*
Letting herself in to what was now her home, Lacey went into the sitting room. With Matt’s help, she had painted its walls in pale pastel shades, reflecting the light from two large windows. Curtains and cushions in rich, bright fabrics enhanced the dark leather couches and chairs.
Lacey flopped into a chair, thinking that maybe she should have stayed at Netherfold whilst Nathan was away. But the more she thought about it the more she realised she had to pull herself together and do something positive, make something happen.
Later that same evening, Lacey popped round to Scar End. Since Stanley’s departure she visited Joan at least three evenings a week for now she understood how lonely her cousin must be. Like thousands of women throughout the country Joan spent her days worrying over the safety of her man, and now Lacey herself was doing the same.
‘Stanley says he doesn’t think he can stick it much longer,’ Joan said listlessly. ‘His feet are rotten, what with standing in muddy water for days on end, an’ there’s rats in the trenches as big as cats.’ Tea slopped from the cup she was holding and she cried, ‘What’ll I do if he doesn’t come back?’
Lacey sipped her tea, no ready answer on her tongue, and the names on the latest list of men from Garsthwaite who had lost their lives flashed through her mind. Young lads she’d gone to school with, others she’d worked alongside, and some she’d walked out with for a week or two, all dead.
Young James crawled over to Lacey’s feet and fiddled with the buckle on one of her shoes. Taking him on her knee she hugged his plump little body to her own, finding comfort in his trusting innocence. Would he grow up never knowing his father?
‘We just have to pray they come home, Joanie. That’s all we can do. We can’t sit moping.’
Joan didn’t look convinced.
Lacey gave a ghost of a smile. ‘Actually, I have been thinking of something; something I want to do more than anything in the world, Joanie, but I’m not letting on what it is until I’m sure of me facts.’ She stood and put on her coat. ‘It involves you, Joanie, so keep smiling and look to the future.’
When Lacey arrived back home she didn’t immediately go indoors. Instead, she stood on the pavement staring thoughtfully at the empty shop next door. The seed planted in her heart when the Mill had been working short-time had flourished, but before it bloomed Lacey had one last battle to fight.
*
Sitting in the new canteen along with her workmates, Lacey finished her sandwich then banged her empty mug on the table for attention. The women ceased their chatter, their expressions curious as they waited for her to speak.
‘I’ve been talking with the lasses who work for Jarmain’s, Hebblethwaite’s and Brooksbank’s. I told ‘em they’re selling themselves short and that if they don’t demand their worth they’ll always be underpaid,’ she said.
‘Aye, that’s right; Jarmain’s pay a couple of bob less than Brearley’s for a finished piece,’ Maggie Clegg chipped in. This being common knowledge, Flo Backhouse shouted, ‘Keep your gob shut and listen to Lacey.’
‘Thanks, Flo,’ said Lacey. ‘Now, as you all know, we’ve been arguing the toss over equal pay for months an’ we’re still no nearer to getting parity with the men. So, what I suggest is, we form our own Union an’ fight for it that way. Most of the lasses at the other mills are willing to join us in our struggle, an’ you know what they say; the more the merrier.’
‘Aye, who needs bloody men, anyway?’ whooped Flo Backhouse. A loud cheer went up followed by cries of, ‘What’ll we do first?’
‘To start with, we’ll march through Garsthwaite demanding the bosses meet their obligations,’ said Lacey, thoughts of Isabella Ormston Ford in mind. ‘Approaching ‘em through the proper channels hasn’t worked. Now it’s time for shock tactics. We’ll shame ‘em into it. They’re desperate for us to work on the new Government contracts they’ve negotiated; they’ll not want us withdrawing our labour at a time like this.’
Lizzie Isherwood’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Are you saying you’ll go on strike?’
Lacey grinned. ‘If we have to, Lizzie; the time’s ripe for it. Now, do I have everybody’s backing, lasses, or am I fighting on me own?’
‘I’ll march to hell if it gets me a few bob extra.’ Lily Skinner’s shout encouraged a chorus of ‘So will I.’
‘We could all be sacked.’
A howl of derision met the lone, timorous voice followed by ‘Don’t be bloody daft. They’ll not sack us. They need us to meet their contracts.’
‘They do indeed,’ said Lacey, ‘so we’ll rally the women at Jarmain’s, Hebblethwaite’s and Brooksbank’s, and arrange a marching day. Remember, lasses, there’s strength in numbers an’ by God we’ll show ‘em we’ve got both strength and numbers.’
*
When Lacey paid her weekly visit to Fenay Hall later that week, Soames met her with, ‘Mr Jonas would like a word, madam.’ He ushered her into the library.
Jonas sat behind a large, leather topped desk, his face creased with consternation. Indicating for Lacey to sit at the opposite side of the desk, he glared at her. ‘Is it true what I’m hearing,’ he rumbled, ‘that the women are thinking of withdrawing their labour an’ that you’re encouraging them?’
Lacey met his gaze. ‘It is. You’ve ignored the Union’s requests to discuss equal pay, so now we’re taking action.’
Jonas leaned forward, his features and tone of voice imploring. ‘Lacey, you’re my daughter-in-law. Do you think it right to go against me like this?’
Lacey sighed and then said, ‘You have to understand how the women feel. It’s unfair for them to do the same work as a man and get paid far less just because they are women.’
Exasperated by her far too logical reply, Jonas ran his fingers through his sparse hair. ‘Women have always been paid less, Lacey. You know that for a fact.’
‘I do, but it doesn’t mean it’s right. The world’s changing; the war’s done that and we’ve got to move with the times. There was a time when women of your social standing were expected to be nothing more than pretty ornaments and the mothers of your children. Now, girls like Felicity are nursing, working in munitions, driving buses or joining the Land Army – proving they’re capable of anything – and women in the mills produce cloth as good as any man.’ Lacey’s impassioned delivery leaving her breathless she paused, fully expecting a heated response from Jonas.
When Jonas made no attempt to intervene, Lacey continued. ‘Women like me keep the mills, the munitions factories and a lot of other industries going; they only thrive because of us. It’s high time our valuable contribution was recognised; equal pay for equal work. We—’
Jonas slapped his palms together. Lacey fell silent. ‘I’ve heard enough, lass. Now look at it my way. It’s my responsibility to keep the Mill in profit. I do that by securing contracts that keep you in work. If I raise your wages I have to justify it elsewhere. Furthermore, I have to keep wages in line with my competitors. I can’t double your hourly rate without considering every option.’
Lacey gazed at him defiantly. ‘You need us just as much as we need you. I’d appreciate it if you could make a decision before next Saturday.’
Jonas smiled wryly. ‘Are you threatening me, lass?’
Lacey didn’t return the smile. ‘We’ve waited long enough; we can’t wait forever.’ She stood up, prepared to leave.
Jonas stayed her with a wave of his hand. ‘Before you go, lass. How do you think this makes me look, my own daughter-in-law fighting for the other side?’
Lacey’s eyes flashed. ‘I’ve always been on the other side. Just because I married your son doesn’t mean I’ve given up fighting for my beliefs. Much as I love Nathan and respect you, I won’t abandon the cause.’
Jonas sighed wearily. ‘I can see that, lass. You run along now; Constance and Felicity are waiting for you. Leave me to think things over.’
*
For the rest of that week, every evening after work Lacey and a handful of weavers from Brearley’s Mill hurried to the gates of the other mills handing out leaflets explaining their actions. With Lacey’s guidance, chosen representatives from each mill approached their employers, requesting a meeting to discuss their demands. These requests were denied, some vociferously. When Lacey approached Jonas he still hadn’t reached a decision.
On Saturday afternoon Townend bustled with women from several mills in the valley, their children running in and out of the noisy gathering. Lacey dashed from one group to another urging them to form a procession then, positioning herself at its head she addressed the women in clear, ringing tones.
‘Ladies, we all know why we’re here and what we’re asking for; equal pay for equal work. So, raise your voices and make yourselves heard; show the bosses we mean business.’ The women cheered their approval, Lacey waving her hands to silence them. ‘We’re marching to show our solidarity. We’ll do it peaceably, no rough stuff. Chant if you like, but no slander, no bad language. We’re ladies, remember?’
A roar of laughter drowning her words, Lacey struggled to continue. ‘We’ll stop outside the gates of each mill to state our demands. If the owners aren’t there to meet us they’ll soon hear about it. Are you ready to follow me?’
Shouting and laughing, the eager women formed a straggling throng. They carried placards with the names of their mills and the words:
Equal pay for equal work
daubed on them. The women from Brearley’s Mill held aloft a white sheet emblazoned with the words:
Women are the workers of today. They deserve equal pay
The procession surged forward, the women chanting and cheering. Listening to them, Lacey wondered if they realised the effort that had been expended in bringing them together.
‘I’m worn out already,’ she muttered to Joan, marching beside her, ‘but look how many turned out, an’ listen to ‘em. It makes it all worthwhile.’