‘How did she seem?’ Aunt Hatt asked when Margaret returned, having delivered a dish of stew to the entrance of Masters, Hogg & Co.
‘Well – she looked all right,’ Margaret said, doubtfully. ‘She was more interested in eating than talking.’
‘She won’t know what’s hit her in there,’ Aunt Hatt observed. She sounded concerned, but added with a laugh, ‘She’s a character, that one, I must say.’
Margaret gave a wan smile. ‘She’s that, all right.’
She was worried for her stubborn little sister, but Annie had not said much except that she was starving and that work finished at six. She looked pale and tense and Margaret saw that she had a lot of little nicks on her fingers, one or two even bleeding. Annie seized on the bottle of water and the plate of stew and potatoes that Margaret had carried to her, and ate it there and then, pressed against the wall of the factory, and not seeming to care who saw her as the seething dinner-time crowds jostled past.
In any case, they had other things to think about. Soon after Annie left that morning, Aunt Hatt had handed Margaret an envelope addressed to ‘The Misses Hanson’. With a jolt, Margaret saw their father’s handwriting. She ran up to the attic and read it perched on the side of the bed, tears running down her cheeks. Everything in her life that had seemed so certain had been shaken at its very foundations and the pain of it had crouched as an ache inside her all the morning. At dinner time, she brought the letter to show Annie. They stood out of the way, close to the wall of the factory while Annie read it.
‘My dear daughters,’ William Hanson had written. Even in that greeting Margaret sensed a stiffness, the way he had not used their names. She watched Annie’s face. The letter began calmly enough.
I was pleased to receive your note saying that you are safely arrived in Birmingham. Please convey my greetings to Ebenezer and Harriet. I know that having imposed yourselves upon them you will do everything in your power to be considerate and helpful to them. I do not suppose I shall be calling on them myself.
It has been hard to explain your absence and I have had to rely on Alice Lamb a good deal. This has forced me into a position of untruths, since CB is convalescent under my roof. I’m sure you will be gratified to hear that our patient is recovering well. He seems to remember nothing of what has passed and was at first at a loss in finding himself abed in our house. He is quiet and at peace and has not spoken of the incident at all.
‘Well, how could he!’ Annie burst out, her face alight with fury.
Their father seemed to have been working himself up as he wrote.
I am only thankful that your good mother is not here to witness the events of the past days. Never, in all my days as a father, have I thought to feel such shame on behalf of my offspring for the bitter lies with which you have presented me. I feel the devil prowling about my home like a wild beast.
I only pray that you will soon return both to your home and your senses, governed by the contrition that these shameful events demand. It is a further humiliation to me that you have put other family members to such trouble on your behalf.
I shall not persist in writing to you. You know my view on what has happened.
Until you see fit to return,
Your father,
William Hanson
‘“The devil prowling about my home”,’ Annie said, her fury evident in every line of her body. ‘That’s because he’s got that black soul under our roof.’ She slapped the letter back into Margaret’s hand. ‘Mother would have believed us. Oh, Maggs, don’t! You mustn’t take this on yourself – he’s arrogant and wrong!’
Margaret found her sister’s intense gaze fixed on her and was touched to see tears in Annie’s eyes as her own also filled once again. The letter had torn at her inside. In all of this, their father, the father she had idolized, had felt such sorrow for, had betrayed them and this was the most painful thing of all.
‘Are you absolutely sure he didn’t see you?’ she asked, her lips close to Annie’s ear. ‘That he didn’t know it was you?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Annie said. ‘How could he have? And what does it matter? He can’t say anything even if he did.’
Annie wiped her eyes fiercely on the backs of her wrists. ‘I’ll have to go. See you later.’
Margaret watched her sister’s proud, passionate little figure disappear back through the factory gates. Annie was always so strong, so sure, and she was grateful for that. She tried to push away her unworthy, raging thoughts that she was the one hardest done by, in the face of her father’s unjust blame.
She hurried back to eat her own dinner with Eb and Hatt, joined also by Georgie, who seemed quietly amused that Annie had gone out to work at Masters, Hogg & Co.
‘We’ll see how long she lasts, won’t we?’ Eb chuckled.
‘Oh,’ Margaret told them, ‘if Annie’s determined to do something, she’ll cling on for grim death.’
‘Sounds like my Clara,’ Georgie said wryly, rolling his eyes.
‘Now look,’ Aunt Hatt said, when the men had gone back to work. ‘Let’s sit and have a talk about what you are going to do while you’re here.’ She turned her chair to rest her feet on the fender and sat back wearily, sipping the tea Mrs Sullivan had made after dinner.
Aunt Hatt had been busy in the office all morning and Margaret had kept out of the way, feeling at a loose end, her mind full of dark thoughts made all the worse by her father’s letter. She knew she needed to be occupied. She wondered if she should do what Uncle Eb had suggested and learn to work the polishing machine.
‘I know your health is not very strong,’ Aunt Hatt began.
‘But I’m much better now,’ Margaret protested. ‘I’m sure I could work. Uncle Eb said—’
‘No, no –’ Aunt Hatt waved a hand dismissively, almost knocking her cup from its saucer. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. I’ve got plenty for you. We could certainly do with another pair of hands in the office. Susan does a lot of the paperwork and Bridget’s on packing – but we’re ever so busy. There’s always the post needs doing . . .’ Aunt Hatt seemed to be going through a list of tasks in her mind. ‘And I can show you how to do some of the paperwork and you can help Bridget when needs be. Yes –’ She looked pleased. ‘I think we can squeeze you in for the time being. The more I think of it, you’d be a godsend!’
‘I hope so,’ Margaret smiled gladly. ‘Any help you want, Auntie, you just ask.’
‘Oh – and if that sister of yours stays the course, there’s her dinner every day . . . You can take it if she doesn’t want to have to come back here.’
‘I’ll do that, of course.’ Margaret had been glad of the chance to get out of the house.
‘Well, there you are. Plenty to do and you’ll earn your keep. We’ll pay you a few shillings on top of that, though.’
Margaret felt Aunt Hatt looking closely at her. She could tell she was dying to ask her more questions, especially after the arrival of the letter that morning.
‘Whatever it is has gone on between you and your father,’ she said carefully, ‘you’re probably best out of the way for a bit. I can see you need to get over it.’
‘It won’t be for long, I don’t suppose,’ Margaret said. In truth, she had no idea how any of this might be resolved, but she was quite sure she was not going home while that man remained anywhere near the place.
Aunt Hatt leaned forward to pat Margaret’s hand and their eyes met. Margaret realized that her aunt already felt fond and protective of her and she was so grateful for her warmth.
‘It’s nice to have you here, bab. Bit of life in the house. And you’ll be a help to me, I can see.’
Annie walked into number twenty-six that evening utterly worn out, with a throbbing head, aching back, and hands burning from handling the rough pieces of metal for all those hours of the day. She had also endured a certain education and suffered a painful dent to her pride as she had sat in that long room amid the rows of women, most of whom she hardly even caught sight of. And her work was so much slower than most of them – even Lizzie, who had deft little fingers and picked it up much faster.
But Annie was not going to show any of this to anyone and she forced herself to hum a tune as she opened the door.
‘All right, Annie?’ Aunt Hatt called from the office.
Annie put her head round the door, forcing a smile on to her face. Aunt Hatt, seated pen in hand at her desk which was piled with ledgers, looked up over her spectacles. To her surprise, Margaret was also in there, sitting close to Aunt Hatt. Both of them looked busy.
‘Yes, thanks, Auntie,’ she said brightly, though feeling as if she wanted to collapse on to her bed and never get up again.
‘There’s tea in the pot in the back – help yourself.’
Annie smiled. A hot cup of tea – never had that sounded so welcome!
‘Oh – and Annie? How about the pair of you having a bath tonight?’
At this blissful idea, Annie could only nod, having to stop her lips trembling. Though Lizzie was quietly friendly, some of the other women near her seemed hostile towards her, as if singling her out as different, a stranger. She was overwhelmed by the impossibility of her task. How was she supposed to preach the Lord’s word in such a place – to these women? There was no time, for a start! Everyone was always rushing, both in and out of the room, when the bell went and to get through the work while they were there. And all of it was so different from anything she was used to. She could not imagine the likes of Doris being receptive to what she had to say. The day had made her feel lonely and a failure, but she didn’t want to break down and sob in front of her aunt. It’s so hard! she thought. I can’t do it and everyone’s looking down on me!
Aunt Hatt was no fool. ‘If you handed in your notice, no one would think the worse of you,’ she said, eyeing Annie kindly.
But I would, Annie thought.
‘No, no,’ she said, turning away. ‘It’s quite all right. I just need to get used to it, that’s all.’
Later that night, after tea and once all the workers had gone home, they helped Aunt Hatt boil pans of water on the range and pour them into the tin bath in the scullery.
‘In our new house, we’ll have a proper bathroom,’ Aunt Hatt told them again, emerging out of a cloud of steam after she had poured a kettle of water into the bath. It fitted along the quarry-tiled floor, between the cupboards and stone sink. ‘Just think – pipes through the house, water straight out of the tap! Heaven!’
In the village they had a simple bathroom with cold running water so the routine of pouring a hot bath was much like here. And to Annie, sinking her stinging hands and aching body into the warm water, no bath had ever felt more luxurious than this one. She tried not to think about the fact that in just a few hours she had to be back at the pen factory, doing the same thing for all those hours over again.
As she later sank into sleep, curled up next to Margaret, she thought, I’m going to get faster. I’m going to be the fastest one there. If they can all do it, so can I.