The Loom (4 page)

‘I will in a minute, Mam.’ Leah watched her mother heave herself out of bed, more like a fifty-year old than the thirty-five years that she was. Emma sometimes felt that the mantle of age was settling on her like swaddling clothes, strangling her. Leah could see the bony vertebrae through her thin nighty as Emma bent to pick up her clothes off the chair. She turned to look at Leah.

‘
Its cowd this morning. Wait till I get the fire going. I’ll give you a call.’ Leah nodded. Janey continued to sleep next to her. She’d need a good nudge to wake
her
.

Emma made her way down the dark, narrow staircase, her clothes tucked under her arm. She trod quietly so as not to wake Darkie in the room across the landing. He'd been on the late shift and she’d heard him climbing the stairs in the early hours.

As Emma opened the living room door, which led off the staircase, a cold blast of air hit her. The fire had gone out completely and she shivered as she hurriedly went to stoke the remnants of it, then picked up a newspaper, twisted it into tight wads and pushed them between. She soon had the fire going again and watched the flames leap, casting shadows around the room. Who would have thought that two weeks ago she’d been sweating in here! She piled some coal on the small fire and soon it was roaring up the chimney. The room suddenly looked cozy.

She got a chair and placed it in front of the fire and put her clothes on it to air. Then she put the kettle on the range for a cup of tea, as well as a pan in which oats had been steeped for the porridge. She hastily tidied up what had been left about the night before. There was Leah’s knitting, and Janey’s pictures.

Janey had an annoying habit of cutting out all the pictures of movie stars and leaving them lying around, even when she knew they could end up in the lavatory. Emma put them all in a pile on the old green painted dresser against the back wall, which held their meagre supply of crockery: four unmatched mugs, four plates and three dishes.

With a last twitch to a cushion Emma straightened with a slight groan. Her back ached a lot these days, especially when the weather became cold and damp. The kettle was now boiling and she poured water into the teapot and covered it with a bright yellow crocheted tea cosy, which Leah had made for her as a Christmas present the year before.

Emma sat down in front of the fire, still in her nighty, and began to sip the hot, strong tea into which she always put two heaped teaspoons of sugar. She loved her tea, especially first thing in a morning. She stared into the flames, her mind on that chance meeting she’d had with Harold the day before. He seemed to be more interested in what the children were doing. Why was that, she thought, frowning slightly? That was all she needed, him coming into her life again, via the children. It was a bit late in the day.

She was suddenly angry. She’d give him what for next time he pestered her! All she wanted was a bit of peace in her life and
that
she’d never had with Harold. What if he began to waylay the children, she thought in panic, and tried his wiles that way. He’d always had the gift of the gab and could talk his way into, or as was usually the case, out of, anything. She finished the tea and banged it down on the range. She'd not think of Harold. She had enough on her plate without worrying about what
he
was going to do.

By this time her clothing was now well aired and she dressed herself quickly, taking off her nighty and putting on a long black dress over her layers of underwear.

There was a cracked mirror standing on the mantle-shelf over the fireplace. Looking into it she wound her long and still black hair into a large bun and secured it firmly with a few long clips, saying ‘ow’ out loud a few times and wincing as she jammed the clips into her head instead of the bun.

Leah gave Janey a push to wake her and flung back the bedclothes. The oil- cloth was freezing and she could see her breath condense in the cold air. She ran across the room and selected her clothes from the still sizeable pile on the chair.

‘Get up, Janey,’ she called as she ran from the room.

‘Shurrup,’ Darkie called. Leah bit her lip. She’d forgotten Darkie would still be asleep.

Janey snuggled deeper into bed. She was still not used to working in the mill in the morning and attending school in the afternoons. By the time she’d done her stint in the mill she was so tired that she almost fell asleep at her desk. ‘It’s a waste of time,’ she complained to her mother.

‘It’s the law,’ Emma would retort. Emma wished Janey had more of the get up and go, that Leah had. All Janey seemed to be interested in at the moment was movie stars!

‘You look half starved, love,’ Emma said as Leah opened the door into the living room and skittered across to sit as near to the fire as she could. She poured some of the porridge into a dish and gave it to Leah. ‘Here, get this down you, it’ll warm you up.’

‘Ta, Mam.’ Leah ate hungrily. She loved porridge and it filled you up so that you didn’t feel hungry for hours after.

‘Did you wake our Janey?’

Leah nodded, still spooning in the porridge and Emma was relieved to see some colour creep into her cheeks. ‘You know our Janey,’ Leah said, in-between mouthfuls, ‘ it would take a bomb to get her out of bed.’

‘Well, she’d better not make us late again,’ Emma said in exasperation. She went to the bottom of the stairs and called up, not too loudly. ‘Janey…Janey…’

She went back into the living room and took a hairbrush off the mantle. ‘Get dressed Leah and then come on over here and I’ll give your hair a good brush and plait it for you.’

Slipping off her nighty Leah quickly pulled on long flannel bloomers, liberty bodice, vest, flannel underskirt and thick black stockings. On top of all this she put a black shift then a bleached calico apron. She sat on the chair whilst her mother brushed her hair.

Emma had just tied Leah’s plaits with blue ribbons when there was a loud knock on the door. It made them jump and Emma looked up in surprise.
‘Who on earth can that be at this hour,’ she said.

‘
I’ll bet its Annie Fitton,’ Leah said angrily. ‘I know she’s deaf , but does she think we are as well? One day she’ll go clean through the door with that knocker.’

Emma hurried through to the front to answer the knock as another loud one echoed through the house. ‘Just be civil if it is Annie,’ Emma said over her shoulder. ‘She can’t help being deaf and she’s just lost her Ned and him only eighteen. Ee, I feel sorry for her, I do that.’

Leah heard Emma open the door, then Annie’s loud voice. I knew it, she thought in irritation. She’s never away. We might as well get her a bed here.

Annie Fitton was indeed standing on the front door step when Emma opened the door. Annie was fat, extremely fat. Her large round pudding face with its blackcurrant eyes stared at Emma worriedly. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Emma,’ she said apologetically, ‘But could you let me have a bit of sugar. I’m right out and I can’t drink me tea without it.’

‘Aye, course I can. Come in a minute.’ Emma turned and walked quickly back into the front room. Annie followed ponderously behind. A moonbeam of a smile lit her face when she saw Leah.

‘Ee, it’s your Leah. You do look bonny this morning, Leah.’

‘Ta, Annie. Cold, though, isn’t it.’

Annie cocked her head. ‘Sorry, love, I didn’t hear that.’

‘It’s cold,’ Leah shouted.

‘Aye, it is that,’ Annie said, ‘But all this,’ and she patted herself, ‘Keeps me warm.’ She let out a bellowing laugh, her layers of fat rippling like a tidal wave. Leah stared, mesmerized. Annie was just
too
fat. She’d explode if she put on any more weight.

Annie sat down on a chair next to Leah. The chair creaked ominously. She smiled again at Leah with her toothless mouth and Leah suppressed a grimace. When was she going to get some false teeth? She’d had no teeth for years. Leah had nightmares about losing
her
teeth. She put her finger to her own surreptitiously. She’d make sure she gave them a good clean with salt before she left for work.

‘Would you like a cup of tea Annie, love,’ Emma said.

Annie turned to Emma. ‘Ee, I haven’t seen the scissors for a fortnight,’ she said. Emma and Leah burst out laughing.

Annie looked surprised. ‘What, what,’ she said, continuing to look at Leah with admiration. Emma was so lucky that she had two such bonny lasses!

Emma laughed and wiped her eyes with her pinny.

‘
Ee, Annie, I don’t know how you got scissors out of that. That one really beats the band. A cup of tea then, love?’ she shouted.

‘Go on then.’

Janey walked in as they sat drinking their tea. She yawned widely.

‘
Hello, Annie, you’re early.’

‘What?’

‘You’re early,’ Janey shouted.

Leah raised her eyes to the ceiling. She loved her mother but she felt she was over friendly with neighbours, especially Annie. She left the front door unlocked all day so that people could just walk in. In this respect she was not like most people in Harwood, who usually kept their distance. Familiarity breeds contempt, Leah often thought, but again this wasn’t true about her mother. Everyone liked and respected Emma.

Annie got up with great difficulty. The chair creaked. They all looked worried until Annie heaved herself upright.

‘
Thanks for the tea, Emma, love. I’ll bring the sugar back today.’

‘No hurry, Annie.’ She saw Annie to the door and then rushed back into the living room to finish getting ready for work.

Janey had dressed herself by this time and eaten her porridge. The noise of clattering clogs increased outside as more and more people hurried to the mills.

‘
Hurry up you two, we’ll be late,’ Emma said. She picked her large black shawl up off the chair and wrapped it round herself.

Kitty O’Shea was waiting for them as they stepped from their front step onto the street. She worked in the same mill as they did.

‘
Thought you were never going to come,’ she said as they set off up the street. It was still damp and cold and Leah and Janey crept under Emma’s shawl, which they had done since they were small. Kitty strode along next to them, her cheeks like two red flags. She had vivid blue eyes and long black hair. Darkie was keen on her and was relentlessly teased about it by the rest of the family.

‘
Annie Fitton called in,’ Emma said as they almost ran up the street. ‘I don’t mind her calling but morning’s not a good time for me.’ Kitty was Leah’s best friend and had been since the O’Shea’s had moved next door ten years ago.

Mara and Shamus O’Shea were perfect neighbours for the Hammonds. They liked company, although they never overstepped the mark and made a nuisance of themselves. But they could always be relied on, and they found the same with Emma. Mara ruled in the O’Shea household. She was large and efficient, had a warm and loving nature and bossed her husband unmercifully. This didn’t bother Shamus at all because he loved his wife to distraction. Shamus was small and wiry, and dark haired and blue eyed like his daughter. He liked a drink, or, as Mara would state sarcastically, ‘he liked a bucketful of it’. Emma could hardly keep her face straight when Mara admitted that she’d given him a ‘good hiding’ one day when he’d had a bit too much.

Paddy O’Shea was Darkie’s age and, like Darkie, worked in the mines. They were good friends and already Paddy had his eye on Leah. Leah knew this only because Kitty had told her, and was horrified.

‘
But he’s more like my brother, Kitty,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t ever like Paddy like that.’

Kitty had been a bit put out, because
she
liked Darkie, so why couldn’t Leah like their Paddy. Why did Leah always have to be so awkward, she thought? It could all have been so perfect!

When the little group reached the top of Glebe Street, Leah and Janey left the warmth of Emma’s shawl because they worked at the Butt’s mill at the far end of town and Emma worked at the Premier, which was in the other direction.

‘I’ll see you tonight then,’ Emma said as she waved them off. She watched them walking down St. Hubert’s Road for a moment. She always felt a pang when she did this. Her girls! What would she do without them? She wasn’t one for tears, but somehow the sight of them, all in black, made her want to. She wasn’t one for sentiments either, but, she wondered, wasn’t there a better kind of life for her girls: something better than the dreariness of the mills, of drab Harwood; the backbreaking toil, which would probably be their future. She would think of Darkie, too, and it was fear more than a pang, which made her heart beat faster. Then her usual optimism would take over and she would give herself a shake and tell herself to stop being a soft happorth.

The girls hurried down the street, now warmer with their brisk walk. They could see Dora Baker, waiting for them at the next corner. They waved but she didn’t’ wave back.

‘
Oh, ho,’ Leah said. ‘Something’s up. I can tell from here. Remember what happened last week, Janey?’ Janey laughed.

‘
Lenny still hasn’t forgiven us.’

Lenny, Dora’s brother, who Leah hated ‘too handy with his thumpings’ she’d said to her mother’, had a nasty experience the week before, together with his cronies, Tony Penny and Bertie Keaton.