Chapter 10

Mary stood behind the bar at Whitelock’s and tapped her feet as she hummed a tune that she could not get out of her head, waiting for the restaurant doors to be opened for yet another day’s service. She knew exactly what the day was going to bring: another day of moaning from the kitchen staff, thinking that they were the only ones who really worked in the place. Another day of the waiters being snide and treating customers who gave them a good tip well, while others were made to wait; and another day for her and Nancy to serve the same customers with the same drinks and for them to smile and listen to the same stories that they had been told a thousand times or more.

Mary had been working at Whitelock’s for nearly a year now and for a good amount of that time she had enjoyed it, and John Whitelock certainly treated her well, but now she was bored. In fact, she was bored with everything. She’d no hope of improving her lot in life, no beau and no hope of ever earning more money to make her way upwards. To make matters worse, it was Christmas, and while everyone else was making plans to be with family and the ones that they loved, she had opted to work behind the bar, seeing as she had no one to share her Christmas with and had no other plans. Even Nancy, who she was beginning to find more and more annoying by the day, had found herself a male friend and was about to pack her bags and join her family in Lincolnshire for two days to celebrate Christmas. She watched Nancy, busy flirting and giggling with her beau, Jake, the new waiter, as they waited for the lunchtime rush to begin, when both would touch hands lovingly as he took the drinks from her to be served to his waiting customers. It seemed that everyone was happy with their lot other than her. She stopped tapping her feet and felt angry with herself for feeling pangs of jealousy over Nancy’s happiness and told herself she shouldn’t be so mean. She, too, could have a man on her arm if she wasn’t so picky. She looked up at the clock as it struck eleven thirty. Time to make everyone jump to attention – and for the two lovers to stop lovingly dreaming into one another’s eyes.

‘Jake, come on and leave Nancy be and open the doors; and Nancy, get yourself behind this bar – and for heaven’s sake, straighten your apron!’ Mary snapped at the courting couple.

‘Sorry, Mary, I was only making the most of a minute or two with Jake, I’m here now.’ Nancy blushed and glanced at the lad who had stolen her heart as he unbolted the doors and opened them up for the world to enter in.

‘It’s all right. I’m happy for you both. It’s just folk shouldn’t have to wait outside in this cold for too long. Let’s hope that they’re not too full of alcoholic cheer before they reach us and that we can get this meal on the run-up to Christmas over and then you can be on your way and I can go home for the night.’ Mary looked up at the customers entering the restaurant. All were jovial, wishing each and every one a Happy Christmas before sitting down at their tables to talk and exchange good wishes of the season as they ate and drank from the fine menu, which Mrs Trotter, with the aid of her kitchen staff, had prepared. Mary smiled and laughed with her regular customers and, on their leaving, shouted after them to have a good and hearty holiday and then turned to serve her next customer, who she knew would have no concerns about how she would be spending her Christmas. This was the first that she would be spending on her own and her heart felt heavy at the thought of previous Christmases shared with Toby and Nell at what was once a happy home down at the quayside.

After working all day, Mary walked with Nancy and Jake to the railway station to see them board the last train down the east coast to Skegness, where Nancy’s family were waiting to greet her and her new beau. The station was busy, with people going and coming home to visit relations, and the steam from the huge trains filled the air as she hugged Nancy and urged her to take care and to enjoy her time with her family. She too had a year of events to look back on, Mary thought, as she waved her off, watching as the lovers disappeared down the track to a poor but festive welcome in the bosom of Nancy’s family. She sniffed in hard and tried to stop a tear running down her cheek. She pulled herself together and took a grip of her emotions as she looked at two young children who were begging from the passengers that were alighting from the trains. She might be on her own, but she had a roof over her head, a full belly, and a good job. She shouldn’t feel so sorry for herself, she decided, as she reached into her purse and found a halfpenny for the boy and girl dressed in rags with dirty faces and shoes that had been mended more times than she cared to think about. She put the halfpenny into the little girl’s hand.

‘God bless,’ she said quietly as the little girl smiled up at her.

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ both children said and then moved on to see if they could find more charity that night.

She breathed in hard and watched as the children tried their luck with the well-to-do and poor alike before she walked out of the thronging station and back down the cobbled streets to her home. At least she was with company tomorrow, working until the middle of the afternoon, and John Whitelock had made it easy for the staff who would have to work that day. There was to be a carvery buffet in the restaurant at lunchtime, not the usual three- or four-course menus, and then it was to close early in preparation for the coming Christmas Day. Preparation for Christmas Day! There was no preparation in her case, although she had bought herself a chicken to help celebrate the good Lord’s birthday. But there would be no presents, no parlour games like in the past, the small cottage would be filled with just her presence and no one else to wish her Christmas greetings. She sighed and slumped in her chair on arriving home, looking up at the sprigs of holly that Nancy had insisted they put in the windows and on the kitchen cupboard. She could do better than this with her life; now, with no ties to family or loved ones, it was time to make her way in the world. This would be her last Christmas spent on her own, she vowed to herself and it would be the last Christmas spent in this poor excuse of a home though she had made it as warm and homely as she could. No, next year would be different; she didn’t know how but she was determined to change her lot in life.

It was the third week in January and Mary lay in her bed and listened to the front door being closed behind Nancy as she went out to her work. She had lain in bed on purpose but although she had no real problem with Nancy, she just needed to have time separate from her. She worked with Nancy, lived with Nancy, ate with Nancy – and unless the girl walked out with Jake, she sat and talked to Nancy seven days a week. It was better than being alone, but Nancy and she had little in common and now all she spoke about was her love of Jake Ingram, the waiter. Of course she paid her way and the money she gave her helped Mary pay the rent and bills and she had saved a little to spend on herself.

Christmas had come and gone and Mary had not been bothered by her lack of family and celebrations but now she had decided, after working long hours at Whitelock’s, to spend some money on herself with a visit to Leeds market and the shopping arcades and to finish her day off with an evening at the music hall. She yawned and stretched; it was a luxury to still be in bed after seven o’clock in the morning and she decided to snuggle down under the covers for a few minutes more before rising and getting dressed. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep but her head was full of the day that she was to have and the things that she would buy. It was no good: once awake, she had to get up, get dressed and go about her day, no matter how comfortable her bed was.

Dressed and sitting enjoying her breakfast in peace for once, she raised her head when there was a knock at the door and Tess, in her usual informal manner, walked into her kitchen.

‘I saw you were still at home so I thought I’d pop my head around and see if there was a brew in the offing. It’s nowt being on your own all day and I know you took to spending Christmas Day on your own badly. That was your fault, though – I’d have come to join you, especially if I’d have known that you’d cooked yourself a chicken.’ Tess eyed her neighbour up and down. ‘You’re not ill, are you? I’ll not catch anything from you?’ Tess said quickly, looking at the scowl on Mary’s face and wondering why she was at home.

‘No, I’ve just begged a day off from John Whitelock. I worked long hours over Christmas, seeing I’ve no family, but I thought that I’d have a day to myself and do things to cheer myself because these long January days are dull and miserable.’ Mary reached for a cup and saucer and poured Tess a drink of tea from her teapot.

‘Aye, I know all about miserable days, especially at this time of the year. January and February are always the worst months. That’s why I was glad to see you at home and I thought to myself that I’d call in and have a cuppa.’ Tess smiled and looked at Mary closely. ‘You’d have thought that your stepfather would have invited you back to his, this last Christmas, although I know you’ve told me in the past he’d washed his hands of both you and Toby.’ Tess was testing the ground to see if Mary had heard the latest news about Robert Jones that was making Leeds alive with gossip.

‘He’ll never have anything to do with me ever again, Tess. I’m not his blood – and judging by the way he treated Toby at the end of his life, it wouldn’t matter if I was. It seems all he’s interested in now is his work, his racing, and his women. Poor Nell would be beside herself – she loved him so much.’ Mary sighed and sat back in her chair; she really didn’t have time for this conversation this morning – she wanted to be off up the market and in the shopping arcades.

‘I hear he’s to be posted down south, that he’s really dirtied his copybook here in Leeds. You’ve not heard owt, have you?’ Tess leaned over the table eagerly.

‘No, and I’m not likely to either. I’ve washed my hands of him.’ Mary looked at the old woman, who was obviously visiting her for a purpose.

Tess sat back with her arms crossed and grinned across at Mary. ‘He’s been helping himself to the force’s funds and running an illegal betting syndicate over at York! They’ve thrown the book at him and he’s lucky he’s not in the gaol.’ Tess laughed at the shock on Mary’s face.

‘That wouldn’t surprise me; he did like to bet on the horses. Yet he had no time for Toby’s love of them.’ Mary shook her head. ‘Why he’s changed into the man he is now, I haven’t a clue. He was always so kind to Nell in their early days together and she thought he was a good man – his true colours only started to show over the years.’ Mary sipped her tea.

‘Aye, well that’s what power does to some folk, it must have gone to his head. To make things worse, the baggage that he’d been living with has run off with some of his money. So he’s back to what he used to be, a bobby on the beat and on his own. He should have been kinder to his own instead of being so proud and arrogant.’ Tess nodded her head.

‘That’ll mean his house will be empty. I always liked living down there, near the canal. It was on its own and out of the way. I was happy for a time there.’ Mary sat back and thought about the years when life had been good, when Nell had looked after her as her own daughter, along with Toby.

‘Aye well, it’s no good looking back, you’ve got to look forward. Now, this will tickle your fancy! Guess who’s coming for supper at mine tonight?’ Tess grinned across at Mary, showing her rotting teeth.

‘Go on, tell me!’ Mary smiled, seeing the excitement on Tess’s face.

‘George Summerfield! I’ve got George the landlord coming to supper. We’ve played cat and mouse with one another for years but I’ve finally caught him. He doesn’t know it yet, of course, and now I’ve caught him I’m not about to let him go, not with all his money. I can’t stop much longer because I’ve got a pot boiling on the stove with some brisket in it and I want to have a good clean up. I need company in my old age and there’s many a good tune played on an old fiddle – and besides, it’ll be easier living with me than chasing me every week for my rent.’ She winked as she rose from her chair. ‘Now, you have a good day to yourself. And find yourself a fella before your looks begin to fade because you want nowt with being an old maid. Be like the lass that lives with you and walk out with a man.’

Mary watched as the old woman left her and crossed the yard back to her own home. It seemed that everybody had somebody in their life, bar her. She hadn’t really worried about being on her own, but now, with everyone else busy courting, she felt quite the outsider. Still, better to be independent than tied down to a man who would probably change as soon as she married him, she thought as she cleared the breakfast table, then put on her new red mantle and matching hat before checking how much of her hard-earned money she had in her purse. She was going to enjoy her day and that was going to be in no way thanks to a man – she was her own woman and that was how she liked it.

Even though the day was dull and overcast, Leeds was busy. It was always busy, being the centre of commerce for Yorkshire and the wool trade. Mary passed the round, highly decorated building of the Corn Exchange, where negotiations for buying and selling corn and grain were being made by farmers and dealers. The noise from the deals being done could be heard loud and clear as she walked up Vicar Lane towards the bustling market, which was now the favourite place for the working folk of Leeds. It was a market in the making, with the guilds building a glass roof over part of the market for the protection of the fishmongers and butchers that traded around the edges. However, some of the markets were still uncovered, and because of Leeds’ growth, there were rumours of the stallholders being moved on until a more suitable market was built. Mary, for once, did not visit the fishmongers and butchers, but the smell from them assaulted her nostrils as she entered the large gates into the market. She made straight for the stall that everyone visited for frivolities and everyday useful items.

‘Ah, Mary my dear, my favourite customer. How are you this fine cold and frosty morning? Warmer than I am, I hope?’ Michael Marks asked in his Polish accent and smiled at this customer who had supported him from his very first appearance on the market. ‘I was just saying to my partner here that we should really be thinking of expanding and perhaps look at renting a shop instead of freezing out on this stall.’

‘Next year, perhaps, Michael; this year we employ some staff, some young ladies, to help on our stall so that we don’t have to stand here.’ Thomas Spencer smiled at Mary. ‘Michael wants to walk before he can run, but I must admit on a parky day like today a nice warm shop in one of the arcades would be most appealing.’

Mary smiled at the two men who supplied her with all the bits and bobs that made life more bearable, everything from lace to ribbons, hatpins and brooches, down to mundane household goods, and all at the same price. The slogan above the stall boasted: ‘Don’t ask the price, it’s a penny’ and was also brandished on banners on each side of the stall, leaving the customer in no doubt at all at how much the goods on the stall would cost them. It attracted many a customer, and people gazed for a good length of time at the rows of haberdashery and household items that the pair of men could supply.

‘I’d like two feet of that beautiful blue ribbon, the one with the satin sheen, and a dozen of those small blue buttons and a reel of this blue cotton, please.’ Mary picked up her reel of cotton from the display and handed it to Michael Marks as he finished counting her buttons into a small paper bag, along with the ribbon that he measured and cut into the length required.

‘You are going to be busy! Are you sewing yourself a new dress, perhaps, to catch the eye of a young man?’ Michael smiled and passed her the bag, then took her money.

‘I’m going to make myself a new dress, but I doubt if I’ll attract a man. I don’t seem to have much luck in that department,’ Mary sighed.

‘You will one day; you are too good-looking for someone not to sweep you off your feet. If I weren’t spoken for myself, I’d be asking you to walk out with me.’ Michael winked and watched as Mary made her way through the market in search of the material to go with the cotton and ribbon that she had just purchased. He admired the young woman who was independent, but he thought it would have to be a strong man who would win her love.

Mary looked at the lovely blue material that she’d bought, then picked it up and smelled it. There was something about a new piece of material that just made you do that, then smooth your fingers along the length of cotton before planning on what design and cut the garment you were to create was going to take. She stepped back and sighed; was it to be a full skirt or a straight skirt? She’d noticed that straighter skirts were coming into fashion but from what she had seen, they hadn’t a lot of freedom of movement. She picked up the two patterns that she had bought, along with the fabric, and looked at the models posing on the front, who looked perfect. She liked both patterns and the white pintuck blouses that she wore on most days would complete the look; however, the sewing would have to wait for another day if she was to catch the show at the music hall, she decided, as she glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Quickly, she folded the material away and put the ribbon and buttons together with it. Sewing could wait until Nancy was back sitting with her of an evening – it would give her something to do instead of listening to the endless tales of Nancy’s day.

Grabbing the full coal scuttle, Mary banked up the fire; at least she would be warm on her return and Nancy couldn’t complain that she had come back to an empty, cold house and she’d been thoughtful enough to buy her a mutton pie for her supper – which was more than Nancy would have done for her, she thought, as she tied her best hat on and pulled the house door to, not bothering to lock it because nobody ever got past guard dog Tess, so all would be safe until Mary or Nancy’s return. As she set out on the walk up to the music hall, she couldn’t help but notice that the people she passed were looking down at their feet and seemed to be quieter than usual. The mood had certainly changed since the afternoon, but as she quickened her pace she thought nothing more of it than that people were tired and ready for their homes. And she was in no mood to worry about other folk; she was going to wallow in the smell and excitement of the busy hall, laugh and smile at the performances and forget her worries for an hour or two. She had saved the money especially for this evening, and now the time had come to reap the benefit of the long hours of work and having Nancy as a paying lodger. She didn’t notice the paperboy on the corner of Briggate had a longer than usual queue, nor the faces of the people as they read the breaking news, her head set on the night’s entertainment as she made her way down the old woollen yard to the music hall doors and pushed her way through the crowd of people standing and talking in the lamplight. Then she paused. Was that woman crying? Why was nobody going into the hall and why was it so quiet? Mary looked around her and saw the doorman talking to a couple who, just like her, were obviously wanting to attend the performance. She made herself known and pushed past the doorman, only for him to grab her arm.

‘I’m sorry, miss, there’s no performance tonight, and it’s been cancelled on account of Miss Rosie Bell, who was the supporting act, being found dead in her room. The rest of the cast are beside themselves and there’s no way they will perform this evening – it would be encouraging bad luck on their part. Though the boss is saying that the show must go on.’

‘Oh, the poor woman! Had she been ill?’ Mary gasped. ‘No, they don’t think so. The peelers think that she took her own life. The boss had just told her he didn’t want her back and she must have taken it hard.’ The doorman looked at her and whispered, ‘She’d taken poison, they found her with a bottle in her hand!’

‘Oh, I see … The poor woman!’ Shocked, Mary walked away, the news making her think of how her mother must have felt when she had been cast aside for someone fitter and healthier than her. Life, or even death, could be so cruel.

The mood was sombre in Whitelock’s; January was always a poor month because the weather was depressing and times were bad – ordinary people were finding making a living hard while some of the great industrialists had more money than they knew what to do with at the expense of their lowly employees. However, Nancy was without a care, too much in love, lost in the arms of her Jake, to care about anything else but them.

‘Just look at the Prince of Wales; he’s nothing but a play-boy from what I’m reading in this newspaper. Lord knows if he will be able to put the country first if anything ever happens to his mother – he’s too fond of his women and drink.’ Nancy giggled and quickly folded her newspaper, putting it to one side as a string of customers entered, most of them looking sombre and deep in conversation. Whitelock’s, as usual, was filling with dreary businessmen and snooty women who talked about one another over lunch. Not the sort of place for a love-struck Nancy to be working at all as she waited for Mary’s response.

‘He’ll be all right, when the day comes, although he has been waiting for his time to come for a while now. I hope that it’s not for a good while yet because although the Queen has never got over the death of her Albert, she’s not doing a bad job of guiding the country,’ Mary said quickly as the first customer of the day came to the bar and ordered a drink and Nancy took the first list of drinks from Jake, who winked at her as he passed it to her. Mary thought she had a rough idea how the Prince felt; he must be bored like her because she had outgrown Whitelock’s and she knew it. It really was time to look for a different position, but there wasn’t much to be offered to a humble barmaid, because although she was in a position of some authority, that was all she was. A barmaid with another barmaid doing as she told her to do. She had a meagre wage and not much respect from the people she served; she was just there to look pretty and do as John Whitelock instructed her to do. And she knew she could do so much more if given the chance.

Mary smiled and passed the two gentlemen at the bar their drinks. They didn’t even acknowledge her – she was a woman who was there to serve them and that was all. She stood back and thought about her lot; no, sooner or later, she would look for another place to work. Whitelock’s was not enough to keep her happy; she needed to stretch her mind and have more responsibility if she was to be happy.