A dutiful daughter, p.30
A Dutiful Daughter, page 30
‘It was different for me, because I don’t mind bein’ on my lone and I’ve got my political interests tae keep me occupied,’ he said, then launched into the usual subject.
Mirren allowed his voice to become a background drone while she enjoyed her surroundings. Delicate, shell-pink wild roses hovered shyly beside the honeysuckle as though hesitant to intrude on such lush beauty, and she stopped briefly to inhale their perfume, recalling the days when she and Grace, as children, visited the braes every autumn to gather rosehips and make necklaces and bracelets from them with the aid of large darning needles and bits of wool. It was a dangerous procedure, resulting in many a pierced finger if the needles slipped – as they often did – while being forced through the hard red fruits, or emerged faster than expected at the other side to draw blood as red and shiny as the rosehips themselves. But the toil was worth it, for there was no greater delight than the finished jewellery, glowing as red as any precious ruby.
By the time they reached the Bonnie Wee Well she and Joe were more than ready to cup their hands and drink some of the clear, cold spring water bubbling into its bowl before leaving the road to walk across springy grass, skirting whin bushes and clumps of purple heather.
When they reached a shallow grassy bowl at the edge of a bluff overlooking the town, Joe, who had been carrying his jacket over his shoulder, spread it on the grass for Mirren to sit on. She took off her own jacket, relishing the sun on her arms, glad that she had chosen to wear her green-and-white-striped blouse with the short sleeves. For a while they amused themselves by looking down on the town, identifying landmarks such as the abbey roof, the elegant pale-green dome of the John Neilson School, the town hall and the great sprawling mills at either end of Paisley. Joe took his tie off and rolled his shirt sleeves up, while Mirren leaned back on her elbows and let the sun caress her face and throat. Butterflies danced around the wildflowers that dotted the grass, and birds swooped overhead and chirped in the bushes and trees nearby. Mirren wondered idly if America had anything as beautiful and tranquil as this place to offer her. The thought of the decision she still had to make reminded her of her main reason for walking with Joe.
‘Robbie’ll have told you that I might be going to America?’ she put in as soon as he gave her the chance.
‘He said somethin’ about it. Have ye made up yer mind, then?’
‘I’ve told Donald that I need time to think about it. After all—’ Mirren heard the sharp edge coming into her own voice ‘—he took long enough to reconsider the matter, and now it’s my turn. I’d be more willing to go if Robbie would come with me. He says he’s not sure it’d be right for him, but I think it is.’ She paused, then said carefully, ‘He listens to you. You could persuade him.’
‘Me?’ He had been lying back on the grass; now he sat up, elbows on knees, his long bony hands loosely linked. There was amusement in his voice when he said, ‘But is it not me ye want tae protect him from?’
‘Not you – the things you stand for.’ She turned to face him. ‘I don’t like seeing him come home some nights with bruises on his face and cuts on his fists. I don’t want him to end up like John Maclean, dead before his time because of harsh imprisonment. Can you not understand that?’
‘Aye, I can… but I’d never try tae influence him, not even for you. He’s his own master.’
‘You think I’d be happy all that distance away, worrying about him?’
‘I’m not even sure ye’d be all that happy anyway, from what Robbie says.’
‘What d’you mean by that?’
He plucked a blade of grass and considered it closely. ‘A man who jilts a lassie once could do it again.’
‘You don’t know anything about Donald, or his situation.’
‘I know that if I cared enough for a woman, I’d not change my mind then change it back again.’
‘It’s well seen that you’ve never been… had…’ Mirren floundered in a quagmire of her own making.
‘Ye’re right, I never have… been…’ His voice was solemn, though she knew without looking at him that he was grinning. ‘My mind’s always been concentrated on other things.’
‘Like being a Member of Parliament?’
‘Aye, that as well.’ Joe lay back on the grass, his arms folded above his head. ‘You know, Mirren, you’ve got a good brain; mebbe ye shouldnae waste it on domestic concerns. Ye could do a lot for other folk – yer fellow workers, for instance.’
‘Me?’
‘I’ve already said that there’s one thing that damned war taught us – the power we have over the employers. Even women have started tae take matters into their own hands now and demand better treatment. You could teach them how to go about it.’
She turned over so that she was still propped on her elbows, but looking down at him. ‘What d’you mean, even women?’
‘I mean there’s no need for ye tae be subservient or helpless any more. There’s more of us than there is of them, and without us they’d be nothin’.’
‘You’re saying that I’m subservient and exploited?’
‘Of course – all workers are.’
‘You might be, Joe Hepburn, but I’m not.’
‘Are you tellin’ me that you slave in those mills for the pleasure of it?’
‘Of course not. I’m not stupid. It’s hard work and the hours are long and most days I hate every minute of it. But slaves don’t have a choice, and I’m nobody’s slave, for I could leave whenever I want and get work in a shop or mebbe even an office, or take in washing or scrub stairs or… or sell my body, come to that,’ she said, too angry to choose her words carefully. ‘I stay in the mill because I choose to. Because I’d not get as good pay in any of these other jobs and I’d probably not be so well treated either.’
‘Well treated?’ he asked scathingly, getting up on one elbow and confronting her, almost nose to nose.
‘I know there are bad supervisors and foremen. You get bullies in every factory and mill. I’ve heard about… I’ve heard stories.’ She would never forget Agnes telling her about an older woman in the gassing flat at the Anchor Mills who had for some reason been the butt of the male overseer. He took delight in ignoring her every time she flapped her apron, a sign that the worker wanted permission to visit the privy. Time and again the poor woman had been forced to work on, discomfort turning to pain. Finally, she had had to give up the job because of the permanent damage visited on her by the callous supervisor. ‘But at the same time we’re respected, me and the others. We’re valued – the management knows fine that we could find work elsewhere if we wanted it. Why else d’you think they pay us well and set up all these clubs and classes for us? To keep their workers happy, that’s why, and if you’re saying that me and the ten thousand other men and women that work in the Paisley mills are so daft that they put up with bad treatment and say not a word in protest, your brains must be addled!’
He tried to speak, but she swept on, determined to finish. ‘Look at what the Coats family have done for this town – where d’you find all these books you talk about reading? In the library, that’s where. And who built it, and the museum, and the observatory? The Coats family!’
‘I’ll grant ye that. But while I’m reading books in Paisley’s fine library, folk are livin’ in such crowded conditions in some of the houses down there…’ he indicated the town spread beneath them ‘…that they’re almost standin’ on each other’s toes. The rich manufacturers would’ve been better building more houses.’
‘And I suppose they started the Great War and caused the influenza epidemic too.’ She was furious with him for turning a pleasant afternoon walk into an argument. ‘Just you save your compassion for those that are truly exploited and leave the mill girls be!’
‘By God, ye’re everythin’ that Robbie told me ye were. Ye’re a right wee fighter,’ Joe said admiringly.
‘I’ve had to be.’
‘I know. Tae tell the truth, I’ve wanted tae meet with ye from the first time Robbie talked about ye.’
‘I find that hard to believe, considering what happened the first time we did meet.’
‘Oh God, don’t remind me,’ he groaned. ‘I could’ve hit my head off that church wall when I saw ye comin’ along the road with Agnes and realised who ye were. Tae think I treated ye so badly, after all I’d heard about the way ye were carin’ for yer mother and workin’ all hours so’s Robbie could serve his apprenticeship.’
‘Robbie exaggerates sometimes,’ Mirren said, embarrassed.
‘He didnae exaggerate, not a bit of it. He thinks the world of ye, and I can understand why, now I’ve got tae know ye.’ He raised himself on one elbow so that he could look into her face. ‘That’s why I asked ye tae come walkin’ with me today, so’s we could talk with nob’dy else about. I’ve never met anyone like you, Mirren.’
It was all too much. She already had more than enough on her mind, what with Ella’s situation, and Donald still awaiting a decision from her. ‘Listen, Joe…’
‘We could fairly do with ye in the Independent Labour Party.’
‘What?’
‘There’s women joinin’ as well as men. Ye’ve got a good brain and a lot of courage. Ye’d be an asset tae any organisation.’
Mirren didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Well, you can just do without me in the ILP, because one member of the family coming home from meetings with a bruised face and sore knuckles is enough,’ she said, pulling a blameless daisy from the grass and shredding it between her nails.
On the following day Ella fainted in the twisting department, folding neatly at the knees and sinking to the floor before one of her machines quietly and without fuss. Fortunately the machine was off at the time and being tended by Gregor Lewis, who was so taken aback by the suddenness of the collapse that he stood staring down at her in dumb disbelief, until the woman on the neighbouring machine shouted at him to give up standing there like a big dowfie and run for Mrs Drysdale.
By the time the mistress pushed her way through the crowd gathered about Ella, the girl had come round and was insisting that she had just slipped on the greasy floor and was well able to get back to her work.
‘Not on one of my machines,’ Mrs Drysdale told her. ‘Not until the nurse has had a look at ye.’
What little colour there was in Ella’s face drained away. ‘I don’t need the nurse! It’s the heat that did it, that’s all.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that. Sylvia.’ The mistress nodded to the six-sider whose job it was to take over from any operators who had to leave their machines for any reason. ‘You see tae Ella’s frames. And you can just get back tae yer work,’ she told Mirren, who had stepped forward to stand protectively by Ella’s side. ‘That goes for the rest of ye as well.’
‘But—’
‘I’m quite able tae see tae the lassie on my own, Mirren Jarvis, and I’m not minded tae have any more twiners idle. Come along,’ the woman ordered Ella, who cast an imploring glance at Mirren as she was led away.
‘That’s her turned off for sure,’ Ruby said sombrely. There was no place in the mills for workers who collapsed while tending machinery, for the job was dangerous enough without permitting further risk.
‘She’d not have been stayin’ on for much longer anyway, in her condition,’ Sylvia put in, and Ruby’s eyes widened.
‘Ye mean…’ she said, then when Sylvia nodded significantly her voice rose a full octave. ‘Ella Caldwell?’
‘I knew ages ago,’ Sylvia told her smugly, and some of the others nodded in agreement.
‘Ye can always tell,’ one of them said sagely, ‘if ye’ve had weans of yer own.’
‘But…’ Ruby rounded on Mirren. ‘Did you know about this? Who is it – one of these fancy Glasgow men ye both went out with?’
‘Whether it is or whether it isn’t is no business of ours,’ Libby McDaid said, coming to Mirren’s rescue. ‘And ye’d be wise tae keep yer tongue still, Ruby, till yer sure of yer facts. Mind, it could just as easy happen tae you.’
Ruby drew herself up self-righteously. ‘I hope I’d know better.’
‘That’s right, hen, you keep yer hand on yer ha’penny,’ Libby advised. ‘And yer legs crossed… and yer desk work done if ye want tae keep yer own job. And that goes for the lot of yez,’ she added, glaring at Sylvia. ‘We shouldnae judge folk until we know the truth.’
Sylvia glared back, then flounced to Ella’s machines while Mirren returned to her own work, wondering all the while what was happening to Ella.
‘Sit down, lassie, and tell me what’s amiss.’ Mrs Drysdale gestured to the worn leather couch that took up most of the space in her small office.
‘It’s just the heat. I’m fine!’
‘Indeed ye are, if “fine” means lookin’ like a tray of tripe in a butcher’s window.’ The woman eyed Ella long and hard then asked, ‘When’s it due?’
‘When’s what due?’
‘Don’t play about with me, lass – I’m not daft and neither are you. When’s the bairn due, I’m askin’?’
Ella bit her lip and fiddled with her apron, then admitted in a near-whisper, ‘Early on in the New Year.’
‘And will ye be safely wed before then… or is he wed already?’
‘He…’ Ella began, then burst into a flood of tears.
Mrs Drysdale silently handed her a towel then waited at her small, cluttered desk. It wasn’t the first time she’d had such a situation to deal with, and it would not be the last. In each department the overseers were answerable to the foreman, who was answerable to the sub-manager who, in turn, was answerable to the manager. Whenever possible, problems were dealt with at floor level and those higher up the ladder than overseers were only called in when absolutely necessary. In this case the mistress was quite certain that it was not a matter for her superiors.
‘I’m sorry.’ Ella gulped when she finally emerged swollen-eyed from the damp towel.
‘Well, at least that’s one burden ye’ve got rid of. As tae the other…’ The older woman sighed and took a bottle and a glass from a drawer. Pouring half an inch of amber liquid into the glass she held it out. ‘Here.’
Ella reared away, eyes wide. ‘What is it?’
‘God, lassie, I’m an overseer, no’ an old backstreet woman wi’ a knittin’ needle! Sinnin’s bad enough but I’d never be a party tae murder! This is medicinal brandy and before ye get any ideas in yer head, I touch none of it myself for I’m teetotal. Drink all of it, mind. It’s only a drop I’ve given ye, and it’ll not do you or yer bairn any harm provided ye don’t make a habit of it.’ She well knew that most of the women working in the department thought her harsh and domineering, but a mistress who wanted to be liked rather than feared usually ended up with a badly run department. Now, as Mrs Drysdale watched Ella empty the glass, sip by reluctant sip, she felt sorry for the girl. Ella Caldwell was a hard worker and a decent enough lassie; it was too bad that she had been foolish enough to get herself into trouble with a married man. Mebbe something could be salvaged, if the matter was dealt with carefully. ‘Now,’ she said briskly when Ella handed the empty glass back, ‘you and me’ll take a walk over tae the first-aid room. After they’ve had a look at ye, ye’d best go home.’
The brandy burned into Ella’s stomach, adding strength to her limbs and bringing a flush of colour to her cheeks, but at the mistress’s words she felt all the good of the drink ebbing away. ‘I can’t go home at this time of day… My aunts’ll want tae know why I’m not at work and, if they find out the truth, they’ll put me out the house!’
‘Ye cannae be sure of that, lass. And ye’ll have need of them, since it seems tae me that the father’s already spoken for.’
‘I am sure. You don’t know them!’
‘They’ll have tae be told eventually.’
‘I know, but… things’ll have been decided by then,’ Ella said desperately. ‘He’ll stand by me, I know he will!’
The mistress gave her a long, thoughtful look, then said, ‘Ye can tell yer aunties what I’ll tell the women out there – that yer stomach’s bad and ye’ll be back at work in the mornin’. And see and be here early, tae make up for the time ye’ve lost today.’
‘Ye’re not turnin’ me off?’
‘Ye’re a good worker and ye’ve never caused trouble before. We might be able tae help ye, but ye’re goin’ tae have tae be sensible and look after yerself and the bairn. No more faintin’ at yer work.’
‘No, Mrs Drysdale. Thank you, Mrs Drysdale.’
The woman nodded and levered herself to her feet. ‘Come on then, let’s get it over with. Once the nurse has had a look at ye and ye’ve had a rest, we’ll talk about what’s tae happen next.’
When the mistress announced curtly that Ella had been sent home suffering from colic and would be back at her frames in the morning, the women accepted the explanation without question, though in the privacy of the toilets later there was a buzz of speculation.
Ruby, with sly sidelong glances at Mirren, declared that Ella had been ‘up tae no good’ with that posh boyfriend with the car, adding smugly, ‘That’s why things have gone wrong between them. She told him she’s in the family way and he’s taken tae his heels.’
‘That’s not true, and you’re a jealous cat, Ruby!’ Mirren blazed at her. ‘Ella’s got the colic!’
‘Are ye sure? I’ve never seen her faint before.’
‘Even if the lassie is carryin’ – and I’m not sayin’ she is, mind – it won’t be the first time in these mills, nor the last.’ Libby McDaid lit up a forbidden cigarette. ‘Any place with five thousand women working in it’s bound tae see its fair share of lassies gettin’ caught.’ She puffed contentedly, perched on the edge of the big wooden toilet seat. ‘It’s different in engineerin’ works and the like, where there’s only men. Mind you, every unborn wean’s got a father as well as a mother, but since the men don’t have tae dae the carryin’, nob’dy knows what they’ve been up tae.’
