The Buffer Girls (5 page)

‘I can see, luv. Come on, let’s get him inside and settled near the fire.’ As the woman led the way, Emily whispered in her mother’s
ear. ‘Mrs Dugdale and her
daughter have cleaned the house for us, Mam. Evidently, it was left in a right state by the previous tenants.’

Martha raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

‘Better a friend than an enemy, eh, Mam?’ Without waiting for an answer, Emily marched across the yard to help unload their belongings, knowing she was only voicing what had been in
her mother’s mind.

For the next half-hour, Mr Rivers, Josh and Emily carried everything from the van into the house, which had only three rooms. A young woman on the far side of the yard stood
watching the proceedings in silence. Two little girls with runny noses, dirty pinafores and scuffed boots clung to her skirts.

‘Afternoon,’ Emily called out cheerfully, but the woman merely nodded, and, as
one of the children began to whimper, she disappeared into her home.

The communal lavatory was in the yard, though it seemed that each house had its own tin bath, which hung on a hook outside the door. Emily shuddered as she thought of her poor father trying to
totter across the icy cobbles in the depths of winter. Thank goodness they had brought a commode with them. At least the poor man
would have some privacy in his own bedroom.

Shutters on the windows were open now as it was only September, but Emily guessed they could be used in winter to keep the house warmer. The door from the yard opened directly into the kitchen,
where a fire burned welcomingly in the grate of the shining, black leaded range. On one side of the range were some built-in cupboards from floor to ceiling.
On the other side was a cast-iron
copper, set in brickwork over a fire grate. Next to that was a stone sink with cupboards beneath it.

‘There’s gas lighting in here and in the main bedroom,’ Bess told them, pointing upwards with her thumb. Then she smiled at Emily and Josh. ‘But there’s no gas
lighting in the attic, where you’ll likely sleep. You’ll need candles.’

So much for Mam’s
belief that candles are a thing of the past, Emily thought, but she said nothing.

‘There’s a coal cellar down here, luv.’ Bess was still showing them round. ‘Yer can use the area at the top of the steps as a larder. It’s nice and cool.
Cellar’s a good storage place, an’ all.’ Bess nodded towards Martha. ‘You’ll find Mrs Eyre’s left her washing tub, dolly peg and washboard and a clothes horse
too. Though that’s seen better days, I ’ave to say.’

Now she glanced around the kitchen. ‘She’s not left you much else, though. A rickety table and chairs and there’s some iron bedsteads upstairs and a couple of battered
washstands. No mattresses though.’

‘No matter, Mrs Dugdale. I’ve brought our feather beds and bedding. And Walter’s rocking chair. We’ll do nicely, thank you.’

It was not Emily’s idea of ‘doing nicely’. She thought longingly of the fresh, clean air at home as she helped her father to his chair, which Mr Rivers had set to one side of
the range.

‘You and Josh will have to share the attic,’ Martha declared in a tone that brooked no argument from either of them. Emily pulled a face. Much as she loved her brother, she
didn’t want to share a bedroom
with him. A nineteen-year-old girl needed some privacy. And no doubt Josh would feel that he did too. But with only the one proper bedroom, there was nothing
else for it; they’d have to share. Anyway, Emily reminded herself with an inward smile, it was only for three years.

‘I can sleep down here – over there in the corner,’ Josh offered.

‘Oh no, you won’t, m’lad.’

‘It’s not right
that Emily has to share with a feller.’ Josh was not going to let it go. ‘And I’d tidy up after myself every morning. You’ll never know
anyone’s sleeping here.’ Suddenly, with an impish smile that had been missing from his merry face ever since his mother had first suggested them moving to Sheffield, Josh put his arm
around Martha’s shoulders. He was at least three inches taller than her and
she had to crane her neck to look up at him.

‘No, you’d be better off in the attic with no one to disturb you. You can hang a curtain down the middle of the room. It’ll be quite private for each of you.’

Even over such a simple matter, Emily thought ruefully, still they could not win an argument with their mother.

Late in the afternoon, Emily waved Mr Rivers off when the last of their
belongings had been unloaded. They hadn’t brought very much with them; the house their mother had
rented for four shillings a week was supposed to be fully furnished, but they’d brought their own bedding, household pots, pans, crockery and cutlery. It wasn’t so bad, Emily supposed.
At least the place was clean, thanks to Bess and her daughter. Once the beds had been made up and her hairbrush
and comb had been set out on an upturned box, her few clothes hung on a rail at one
end of the attic and her underwear stowed in a trunk they had brought with them, at least the bedroom they had to share felt a bit more like home. ‘Just you mind you keep to your side of the
curtain, Josh Ryan, ’specially when I’m getting washed.’ The battered old washstand with a black marble top and blue and
white willow-patterned ewer and bowl stood in one corner
of Emily’s side of the room beneath the sloping ceiling.

‘Where shall I wash, then?’

‘Downstairs in the kitchen, unless we can pick up another washstand cheap.’

‘There’s hardly any room to put one,’ Josh said morosely. ‘Oh Emily, what are we doing here?’ He sat down suddenly on his bed, his shoulders hunched, his face a
picture
of abject misery.

‘Doing as we’re told – for the moment.’

He sighed heavily. ‘Three years is an awful long time. Maybe Amy won’t wait for me.’

‘Of course she will. And you can write to each other every week.’ She grinned, teasing him. ‘That should keep the flame of true love burning brightly. And you can go back and
see her at a weekend sometimes.’

But Josh was not to be cheered.
‘Whatever job I get, I won’t earn much to start with, will I? And Mam will need every penny both of us can earn.’ He glanced up at her.
‘What are you going to do? For a job, I mean.’

‘I’m not sure yet, but something Mrs Dugdale said has given me an idea where I can start.’

Downstairs, Martha had stowed all her kitchen equipment in the cupboards and scrubbed the surface of the table just
one more time. Martha was fussy about cleanliness and no one
but herself could clean her kitchen table well enough.

As dusk came early into the enclosed yard, there was a knock on the door. ‘It’s only me, luv,’ Bess called and opened the door at the same time.

Martha sniffed. She wasn’t sure she welcomed such familiarity so early in their acquaintance, but she held her tongue when she
saw that Bess was carrying a large tureen.

‘It’s only stew and dumplings. I made extra knowing you’d be tired and hungry. There’s only me, my son, Mick, and my lass, Lizzie. She’ll be home from work soon.
I’ll send her round to say hello. But as for my boy,’ she smiled indulgently, ‘I hardly ever see him. But I’ll get him to come and see you sometime.’

Was this how it was to be? Martha
thought. Folks running in and out of each other’s houses without so much as a ‘by-your-leave’? For a brief moment, she felt a pang of
uncertainty but then her resolve hardened. This was all for Josh. As long as Josh got a good job with the prospects she hoped for, then it would all be worthwhile. Martha forced a smile onto her
face and said ingratiatingly, ‘How
very
kind of you, Mrs Dugdale.’

‘Bess, please. And you’re . . . ?’

Martha hesitated. She wasn’t used to such informality. Even with Bob Clark it had always been ‘Mr Clark’ and ‘Mrs Ryan’. And Mr Osborne at the corner shop
wouldn’t dream of calling any of his customers by anything other than their surname. The menfolk, who’d known each other for years, called each other by their Christian names, but this
had never
extended to the women. Now Martha swallowed hard and with a thin smile, said, ‘Martha.’

‘Well, then, Martha luv, here you are. Pop it in the oven for a few minutes while you set the table. See you later, then.’

‘Mm,’ Martha said, very much afraid that she would.

But ten minutes later, she was obliged to be thankful to her new neighbour as her family sat down to the unexpected hot meal.

‘This is good, Mam,’ Josh said, eating with surprising relish after being so recently heartbroken.

Emily, helping Walter to eat, exchanged a look with her father. There was a surprising twinkle in his eyes and she knew he was thinking the same as she was; the fickleness of a young man where
his belly was concerned! Despite this, Emily was encouraged; her father understood what was going
on and whilst he had not been able to voice any opinion – had not even been asked –
perhaps, after all, he would be all right here. As long as he was kept warm and fed, maybe . . . ? But even as the thoughts entered her head, he choked a little on the food and began to wheeze and
she realized that before long the sooty, smoky atmosphere of the city would be a serious threat to him.

Whatever
had her mother been thinking of, she thought yet again, to drag them all from everything they loved to this strange, disturbing environment?

But of course she knew the answer only too well: Josh!

A little before nine o’clock, there was another tap at the door.

‘That’ll be the girl, I expect,’ Martha muttered sourly. ‘Come to say hello. Don’t we ever get any peace here? It’s high time we were getting your father to
bed.’

‘Shush, Mam, she’ll hear you.’

Martha sniffed but said no more as Emily went to open the door. In the light from the lamp, Emily could see a tall,
slim girl standing there, a shawl pulled closely around her shoulders.

‘You must be Lizzie,’ Emily said, holding the door open and moving to one side. ‘Come in, do.’

As the girl stepped into the kitchen, Emily could see that her long black hair fell in glossy waves to her shoulders. Her dark blue eyes were bold and she glanced around the room, swiftly
assessing everyone. Her skin was
smooth but pale, her mouth and nose well-shaped and her chin firm and determined. When she met Emily’s gaze the two girls recognized the strength of character
in each other. Without a word being spoken, they both realized that they would become either the best of friends or the worst of enemies. But Lizzie’s glance was flitting around the room once
more. She nodded to Martha and then her stare
rested briefly, and with sympathy, on the huddled figure near the fire. But it was on Josh’s face that her gaze finally came to rest. She smiled
at him, her cheeks dimpling prettily, her head tilting coquettishly to one side. ‘My, my,’ she said in a low, husky voice. ‘Mam didn’t say that a handsome young man had come
to live next door.’

Josh’s face reddened and he stuttered a little as
he said, ‘P-please, sit down, Miss Dugdale.’

‘Oh, Lizzie, please. And, ta, I will, though I won’t stay long.’

‘Thank goodness for small mercies,’ Martha muttered and Emily glared at her, hoping the girl hadn’t heard.

‘You must all be so tired.’

Emily sat down on the opposite side of the table. ‘We are,’ she said, ‘but not so tired that we can’t make a neighbour welcome. Your mother
has been wonderfully
kind.’

The girl laughed. ‘Oh, that’s Mam. Never too busy to lend a helping hand despite the fact that she does all the cooking and washing and cleaning for the three of us and works across
the yard part-time as well.’

‘Oh really?’ Martha asked, her ears pricking up. ‘What does she do?’

‘She works alongside Mr Farrell and they make files for Waterfall’s in Division
Street. That’s where I work. I’m a buffer girl there under Mrs Nicholson. Her that lives
in the corner house opposite.’ Lizzie gestured with her head. ‘She’s the missus over us buffer girls. Poor missus.’ Lizzie lowered her voice in sympathy with the
heart-breaking losses the woman had suffered. She glanced across at Walter, then added, ‘There’s only Billy, her youngest son, left at home
now. He was too young to go to the war.
He’s only nineteen now – same age as me. He works at Waterfall’s too, though not with his mam, of course.’

After a moment’s pause, Emily asked, ‘What exactly is a buffer girl?’

‘We polish the cutlery – well, some of it. Fellers do the difficult stuff.’ She pulled a face. ‘They reckon women can’t do it, but we’ve proved in the war
that we could
when there was a shortage of men, so we’re fighting now to be treated equally. In the war, some of the firms turned to war production, you know, shells and such, but
Waterfall’s kept on with the cutlery.’ She laughed. ‘There was plenty of cheap cutlery required by the army. At least, that’s what we made. But now we’re back to
making the better stuff and we want equality with the men if we’re
doing the same jobs.’

Emily heard her mother’s derisory sniff. In Martha’s eyes no girl would ever be able to do the same work as a man and especially not a man like her Josh.

‘Would there be work for me, d’you think?’ Emily asked swiftly, cutting off any remark her mother might have been about to make.

‘More than likely. I’ll ask tomorrow, if you like.’

‘Would you? That’d be very
–’

‘Kind,’ the two girls finished in unison and then burst into fits of laughter.

‘Are there any jobs going for young men?’ Martha asked. ‘Josh is looking for work, but he wants to serve some sort of apprenticeship with the view to advancement in
time.’

Lizzie’s eyes sparkled as her intense gaze rested once more on him. ‘I’m sure they’d be happy to take on someone like Josh.’ Huskily,
she added, ‘I’ll
see what I can do for you.’

The words were innocent enough, but Emily had the uncomfortable feeling that there was a wealth of meaning behind them.

As the door closed behind their visitor, Martha said, ‘We must be friendly to all our neighbours. They could be useful.’

Emily hid her smile. She had no intention of being anything else and not because of what they could
do for her.