The Buffer Girls (8 page)

A spare minute, Emily thought, what’s one of those? But, of course, she said nothing.

Emily was thankful she had a good memory and was quick and neat in her work, whatever that work was. She felt Ruth’s eyes on her, but she never slackened for a moment. She was at
everyone’s beck and call
all day.

‘Emily luv, I need more sand.’

‘Can you go t’shop and get me some bread an’ milk, else my ol’ man won’t have owt for his snap tin tomorrow.’

‘Emily, fetch us another pan of work, luv.’

‘Emily, you haven’t dished the work out yet. We don’t want the wheels stoppin’. Look sharp.’ This was from the missus, whose orders Emily had the sense to obey
first.

‘Have you got
the dinners on, lass? Me belly thinks me throat’s been cut.’

‘I’m ’aving fish an’ chips today. Emily, can you fetch them for us?’

‘I can’t afford them this week. Bread an’ dripping’ll have to do me.’

‘Emily, see what’s on at the Empire this weekend while you’re out, luv. I fancy a night out at the theatre. You up for that, Nell?’

But Nell would always shake her head and carry on
working. It soon became clear to Emily that Nell was the hardest-working buffer girl of them all and the best at the job too. She loved to watch
her working and see the shining spoons and forks emerging under her skilful hands; hands that bore the scars of cuts and burns from hot resin, an everyday danger for a buffer girl. Apart from
walking into town at dinner time and meeting the other girls
on a Sunday afternoon, Nell didn’t go out very much. But still she sang every day at her wheel along with the other buffer girls.
They sang all the latest music-hall songs: ‘Burlington Bertie from Bow’, ‘Down at the Old Bull and Bush’, ‘My Old Man Said Follow the Van’. Nell’s
favourite was always ‘Hello, Hello, Who’s Your Lady Friend?’. Emily noticed that they avoided singing any of the songs
like ‘Oh! It’s a Lovely War’ and
‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’
–
anything that might remind them of the recent war that was still so painful for all of them. Nearly everyone in the buffing shop
had a relative or friend who had joined the Sheffield City Battalion – the local pals’ battalion – and many, mown down in the battle for the village of Serre on the Somme, had not
come back.

Emily couldn’t remember ever having felt so weary in the whole of her young life. Working beside Josh at the candle making was nothing compared to this. By the time the hooter sounded for
the end of the day, every bone in her body seemed to ache and her eyes stung with the gritty sand flying about the workshop and with tiredness too.

By the fourth day, Emily had all her chores under control
and it earned her a smile and a nod from Ruth Nicholson.

‘You’re doing ever so well,’ Lizzie told her as they walked home. ‘The missus doesn’t give praise very often.’

As if to prove Lizzie’s point, the next morning Ruth said, ‘I’ll show you how to cut out the paper aprons for the girls. We use the brown paper that’s used for wrapping
the finished cutlery in, but, failing that, we use
newspaper. The girls bring in whatever they can at the beginning of the week.’

Emily nodded but said nothing. The Ryans could no longer afford the luxury of buying a daily newspaper to read although Emily promised herself that the very day she started to earn a decent
wage, she would take one home for her father on payday. She knew he missed sitting at the table and reading the latest news.
Sometimes, it was the only thing that seemed to stop his constant
shaking. For the next two hours Ruth showed her how to lay out the paper on a table and cut out the shape of an apron. These were then stacked neatly for the girls to help themselves to whenever
they needed one.

‘I’ll never remember it all, Lizzie,’ Emily confided to her new-found friend one day as they walked home after
work. ‘There’s so much to
do.’

‘The main thing is to keep the girls supplied with what they need. If you slow down their work, they’ll get cross. It’s money lost to them. Anything else can wait, though they
do like their dinner ready on time.’

Emily groaned. ‘Oh don’t.’

‘We’ll all help you. Nell’s sort of head buffer girl; she’ll keep you on your toes. It’s not an official title
– she doesn’t get extra pay – but
she’s the best worker of all of us, though it pains me to admit it.’ Lizzie laughed. ‘Oh, and by the way, I saw your face when the missus said you’d got to buy your own work
clothes. Don’t worry. I’ve got some old ones you can start off with.’

As they entered the courtyard, the door of Lizzie’s home opened and a young man stepped out. He was wearing a
grey suit and a striped waistcoat with a white shirt and tie, black boots and
a cloth cap. Dark haired like his sister, he was thin faced, with a bony, hooked nose and steely blue eyes that were set a little too close together for Emily’s liking. He grinned at her
cheekily. ‘So you’re our pretty new neighbour Lizzie can’t stop talking about. But to be honest –’ and that was something Emily instinctively
doubted happened very
often in his world – ‘it’s your brother she talks about the most.’ His piercing eyes raked her up and down, making her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Dressed in her
workaday, drab and now dirty clothes, Emily felt at a distinct disadvantage. The young man was certainly not dressed for work and she guessed he was heading out for a night on the town.
Unnecessarily,
for Emily had guessed exactly who the young man was, Lizzie said, ‘This is my brother, Mick. I told you about him.’

Emily smiled thinly and nodded in greeting.

‘If you’re off into town,’ Lizzie said, ‘just watch yourself, our Mick. Don’t go getting kaylied.’

‘Now, why would I get drunk? I’ve got to keep my wits about me in my business.’

‘Well, don’t go getting into any fights.
You’ll upset Mam.’

As he passed close to them, he tweaked Lizzie’s nose playfully. ‘You worry too much, Sis. I can take care of missen. Night, night, sleep tight, watch the bugs don’t
bite.’ And he pushed his hands into his pockets and walked jauntily out of the yard, whistling loudly and, surprisingly, quite tunefully.

‘He’s a one,’ Lizzie said, watching him go and shaking her head.
‘He’s a right worry to Mam and me. Always in some scrape or other right from when he was little.
But he’s a good lad, really. He looks out for me and Mam. We don’t go short of anything if Mick can help it. I just hope he doesn’t get himself into real trouble. It’d be
the death of me mam.’

As Emily walked in through the door of their house, longing to have a quick wash and lie down on her
bed, even if only for a few minutes, Martha greeted her with the words,
‘I need help with your dad. He’s had a nasty turn today and his breathing’s worse.’

‘What did you expect, Mam?’ Tired and irritable and thinking longingly of the little cottage back in Ashford, Emily snapped, ‘Bringing him here . . . the air’s thick with
smoke. You can hardly see the sun sometimes.’

Martha’s eyes
flashed. ‘I’ll have less of your cheek, miss. And where’s Josh? How’s he got on today?’

Not a word of enquiry about her day, the girl noted wryly. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since first thing this morning.’

‘No doubt he’s doing so well they want him to work late,’ Martha said. Her faith in her son’s abilities knew no bounds.

‘Whatever it is you want me to do, Mam, I must have
a wash first.’

For the first time Martha seemed to become aware of her daughter’s blackened face and dirty hands. ‘Go on, then,’ she said impatiently, ‘but be quick. I need to get your
dad upstairs to his bed, else he’ll likely fall out of the chair.’

It was a struggle to get Walter up the steep, narrow stairs.

‘Couldn’t we have waited until Josh gets home?’

‘No, we’ll have to
manage. Josh has got his career to think of. We can’t expect him always to be on hand. Right, you go downstairs and peel the potatoes whilst I get him
sorted. Come on, Walter, do try to help yourself a bit.’

Emily glanced at the pathetic figure of her dad. He was nothing like the man she remembered, who had marched away to war so proudly.

Downstairs, Emily began to prepare the meal,
swaying with tiredness as she stood at the sink. She heard a slight noise behind her, a scuffle, and turned to see a huge rat looking up at her with
bright eyes. She screamed and the animal scuttled away, squeezing through a hole at the bottom of the door. Her heart was beating fast as she leaned against the sink. It wasn’t that she was
afraid of rats – she’d seen plenty in the countryside – but
she’d never seen one intruding into their home.

‘Oh Mam,’ she whispered, as tears ran down her face. ‘Whatever sort of a place have you brought us to?’

When Josh arrived home each evening during his first week at work, Martha fussed around him. ‘What sort of day did you have? What job are you doing now?’

On the Friday, Josh glanced around the kitchen. ‘Where’s Dad?’

Before her mother could answer, Emily said, ‘He’s in bed. He’s had a bad day. His breathing’s terrible.’

‘Never mind about that now,’ Martha snapped. ‘He’ll
be all right. Tell me about how you’re getting on. Did – did you see Mr Trippet?’ Her mother seemed
strangely agitated, Emily thought, but maybe it was just her eagerness to see Josh settled in a job with prospects.

But Josh was not to be diverted from his concern for his father. ‘You should have waited for me to come home. You must have had a struggle to get him up those stairs.’

‘We
did,’ Emily said tartly, ignoring Martha’s angry glance.

‘Well, wait for me to get home in future. I’ll make sure I’m home on time every night.’

‘We’ll do no such thing. If you’re needed to work, you’ll stay there. How can you hope to advance if you don’t show willing? We can manage.’

The brother and sister exchanged a glance but said no more.

‘Did you see Trip today?’ Emily asked.

‘Yes, he came to see how I was getting on now that I’ve been there a few days. They’ve started me at the bottom, as you might expect.’

‘Yeah, me too. I’m what they call an errand girl and—’ Emily began, but her mother brushed her aside.

‘At the bottom?’ Martha said, ignoring Emily and disgruntled at the very thought that her precious boy had not been started at least halfway up the
ladder. ‘With all your
talents, you should start a bit higher up than the bottom.’

‘I know nothing about the cutlery industry, Mam. I’m a candle maker.’

‘Not any more, Josh. You’re going to be someone in this city and before very long, if I have anything to do with it. So, have they started you on an apprenticeship yet?’

‘Sort of.’

‘“Sort of”? What kind of an answer is that?’

‘They’ve set me on as an apprentice table-knife grinder,’ Josh replied shortly. ‘But an apprenticeship at Trippets’ can take seven years
and
you have to
agree not to get married during that time. So, I’m not happy about that.’

He returned his mother’s glare steadfastly and it was Martha who was the first to look away. ‘Besides,’ Josh added, trying to drive home his point, ‘apprentices’
wages are a pittance. I’d be better doing a proper job where I can earn a bit more.’

‘It still won’t be much if you take an unskilled job. You’re better to get trained properly, though I don’t like the sound of you being just a grinder.’ She turned
to Emily, almost as an afterthought. ‘And what about you, miss? What will you be earning?’ Still she showed no concern about the job Emily
was doing or how she’d been getting on
– just what money she would bring home at the end of each week.

‘At the moment, half a crown a week.’

‘Two and sixpence?’ Martha shrieked. ‘How do you think that’s going to feed four of us, to say nothing of rent and coal?’

She gave a derogatory sniff and turned away, disappointed in both her children.

A little later, when Josh and Emily
sat down to a late tea and Martha was upstairs helping Walter to eat, Josh said quietly, ‘Trip sent a message.’

Emily looked up sharply, holding her breath until Josh said, ‘He wants you to meet him near the Town Hall on Sunday afternoon at about two o’clock.’

As they heard their mother’s footsteps coming down the stairs, Emily whispered, ‘Thanks, Josh.’

Her brother grinned. ‘I can
see by the sparkle in your eyes that you’ll be going, then?’

‘Just try and stop me.’

‘I wouldn’t dare,’ Josh said with a chuckle and then his smile faded as he murmured, ‘I just wish Amy was here and we could all go out – the four of us – like
we used to do.’

Emily shot him an understanding glance, but could say no more as Martha came back into the room.

‘You doin’ anything after?’
Lizzie asked Emily as they walked home at dinner time on Saturday after that first long week at work.

‘Only helping Mam – if she needs it.’

‘When we’ve washed our work clothes and if yer mam doesn’t need you, get yer hat on and I’ll take you shopping in the best shops in town.’

Emily laughed, not too embarrassed to admit, ‘I’ve no money to spare.’

But her new-found friend was not
to be put off. ‘Doesn’t cost owt to look. I’ll tek you to Walsh’s.’

Excitement churned Emily’s insides. She loved the hustle and bustle of the city and couldn’t wait to see the shops she’d only heard about.

‘All right. I’ll meet you about two.’

Lizzie took her to the city centre. As they reached the busy streets, Emily gazed around her in awe at the magnificent buildings. People were
hurrying to and fro or sauntering along the street,
pausing now and again to look in the brightly coloured shop windows. Trams rattled past, a man in a top hat was driving a horse and cart delivering barrels, and there were several cyclists weaving
in and out of the traffic. She felt a thrill of excitement at the vibrancy of the city after the placid lanes of the countryside.

‘Oh, look
over there, Lizzie,’ Emily said, as a display of the latest fashions across the street caught her eye. In her eagerness, she stepped out into the road.

‘Look out!’ Lizzie yelled and grabbed her arm, hauling her out of the pathway of an oncoming tram.