Opal Plumstead (18 page)

‘Patty!’ said Geoff.

‘Whoops!’ she said. ‘So sorry, Opal Plumbrain. Did I accidentally knock you?’

‘Can’t you leave her alone today? You’ve had your fun,’ said Geoff.

‘Have we?’ said Patty, wide-eyed.

‘We think she grassed on us to Beeswax,’ said Nora.

‘What?’

‘Serve you right if she did,’ said Geoff.

‘But I
didn’t
,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t do that, even though I had just cause.’

‘Don’t believe her, Patty. I
saw
her nattering away to him in his office,’ said Nora.

‘Well, see if I care if she did,’ said Patty, shrugging. ‘She can’t prove anything, can she? It’d be her word against ours, right?’

They all agreed.

‘There,
see
!’ said Nora, giving me a shove.

‘For heaven’s sake, you’re like nasty little children at elementary school.’ I struggled to sound superior, though my heart was thumping hard.

They all made ridiculous ‘Oo-ooo’ sounds, mocking me. I struggled to ignore them all, resolutely moulding, though I jumped whenever one of them came near me.

Halfway through the long morning Mr Beeston strolled into the room. I saw Patty stare at him and then look at me.
All
the girls were looking. Several were fearful, but Patty put her chin up and squared her shoulders.

‘How do, Mr Beeston,’ she said boldly. ‘Come to keep an eye on me and my girls?’

‘As if I need to do that, Miss Pattacake,’ said Mr Beeston. ‘I know you little lasses are all as good as gold. No, I’ve come to chivvy these two work-shy rascals here – the saucy lads.’ He patted Geoff and George on the back, while everyone laughed uneasily. Geoff and George were the steadiest, most hard-working men in the entire factory, and everyone knew it.

Mr Beeston had a stir of the syrup in the big copper vat, nodding approvingly at the texture. He stepped into the drying room to count the boxes.

The girls whispered to each other while he was in there:

‘She
did
tell. He’s come to tick us off!’

‘He’s just playing with us. He’ll suddenly turn nasty – you wait.’

‘Do you think he’ll dock our wages?’

‘That hateful tattletale Plumbrain!’

But Mr Beeston came back smiling. ‘Well done, ladies and gentlemen. Don’t stand there staring at me now. On with the good work!’

He patted me on the head, squashing my cap. ‘Mould on, little Opal Plumstead!’ he said, and then he walked out of the room.

The girls all breathed out heavily.

‘So Plumbrain
didn’t
tell,’ said one.

‘She did, I saw her,’ Nora insisted.

‘
Did
you tell, Plumbrain?’ Patty asked menacingly.

‘Can’t you girls give it a
rest
? You’re making my head ache,’ said Geoff.

‘Oh, gallant Sir Geoff, all a-quiver to protect little Plumbrain,’ said Patty unpleasantly.

‘What did you girls do to her yesterday, then? It’s clear you did something if you’re all so scared of Mr Beeston finding out. Leave her alone, can’t you!’ he said.

‘All right, then, we
will
leave her alone,’ said Patty.

They stopped speaking to me altogether. They turned their backs, and whispered and giggled as they worked. I heard my name and knew they were cracking stupid jokes about me. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care. I wanted to be left in peace, didn’t I? I could work quietly, free to think my own thoughts. But though these were the last girls in the world I wanted to be friends with, it was still horrible to be totally left out of their conversation. I felt lonelier than ever. When I next went into the drying room, I had a little weep.

Geoff followed me in. ‘There now,’ he said softly when he saw me snivelling.

‘Why do they hate me so?’ I whispered.

‘They don’t hate you, silly. It’s just a spot of teasing. It’s because you’re a new girl. They’ll get used to you soon enough. Try to laugh along with them. They’ll only get worse if they see you’re upset,’ he told me.

‘I’m not really a laughing sort of girl,’ I said mournfully.

‘Yes, you’re a solemn little lass. It’s like you’ve got all the cares of the world heaped on your shoulders.’

‘That’s what it feels like,’ I said, sighing. This sounded such a self-pitying statement that I blushed and giggled in embarrassment.

‘That’s better,’ said Geoff. ‘You cheer up now, dearie.’

‘I’ll try,’ I said, but I didn’t think that was possible.

I KNEW HOW
much dinner cost now, but Mother could only spare me a penny a day until I got my wages at the end of the week. The oxtail soup and meat and potato pie smelled wonderful, especially now that I wasn’t feeling sick from eating fondants, but I resolutely joined the tea and bun queue.

There was a whole bunch of women standing in a cluster and I hung back, not quite sure where the end of the queue was. I worried that they’d start abusing me if I stood too close.

Another couple of women lined up after me.

‘Budge up, little darling,’ said one.

‘Yes, tell that lot of old natterers to sort themselves out. We’re hungry, aren’t we.’

They spoke in such a friendly manner that I could have hugged them.

‘You
are
a little’un, aren’t you. Didn’t think they were employing infants at Fairy Glen! Where have they put you, then?’

‘I’m in the fondant room,’ I said.

‘Oooh, with all the saucy girls. Are you going to sit with them now?’

‘No!’

‘Well, come and sit with us. What’s your name? I’m Jess, lovey, and this is Maggie.’

They were about twenty-five, I reckoned, both plump and rosy-cheeked. At first it was hard to distinguish one from the other in their identical caps and overalls, but by the end of the meal I realized that Jess’s plumpness was mostly because she was going to have a baby – and when Maggie took off her cap to scratch her head, I saw that her hair was pure white.

She noticed me staring. ‘It went that way when I was nineteen and had my first baby. Weird, ain’t it? Still, my hubby likes it, would you believe. He calls me his little Snow White – though in
my
fairy-tale book she’s got black hair, but never mind.’

‘You have a baby too?’ I said.

‘I’ve got four, dear – two boys, two girls – couldn’t be better.’

‘Whereas I’ve got three girls, and if this little beggar isn’t a boy I’m going to give it a serious ticking off,’ said Jess.

‘Are you allowed to keep working when you’re . . .?’ I paused delicately.

‘Oh yes, Mrs Roberts is very understanding,’ said Maggie.

‘Who’s she? I thought Mr Beeston was in charge.’

‘He’s the manager, dear, but Mrs Roberts
owns
the whole bang-shoot. Well, it used to be
Mr
Roberts, but he died of pleurisy years ago, and so Mrs Roberts took over. There’s a son, but he’s still away at school somewhere. He’ll take over the firm in time, but meanwhile Mrs Roberts is a fair boss, especially to us women. She’s very keen on women’s concerns. She’s one of them suffragettes, wanting women to have the vote.’

‘How splendid!’ I said.

‘Don’t you think all them women make fools of themselves, throwing bricks through windows and yelling in Parliament?’ asked Jess.

‘But it’s for a very important cause,’ I said. ‘If we had the vote, then there would be fairer laws and happier times for all women, especially in the workplace.’

‘Bless you, dear! We’re happy enough as we are, ain’t we, Maggie? We like our workplace. Mrs Roberts runs a special nursery for our babies, so we don’t have to leave them with some old crone who won’t mind them properly. You wait till you find a fellow and start having babies, dear. You’ll thank your lucky stars you can carry on working here, earning a good wage,’ Jess said earnestly.

‘I don’t think I want a fellow,’ I told her.

‘Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart, your time will come,’ said Maggie, misunderstanding. ‘I reckon you’ll grow taller, blossom a bit, turn into a true dazzler and have all the fellows giving you the glad eye.’

‘I don’t think so – but even if I did, I wouldn’t give
them
the glad eye.’

‘Nonsense! You wait till some lad takes your fancy.’

‘I don’t believe in romantic love. I think it’s just a myth to make us procreate,’ I said grandly.

Olivia had listened to my theory and had been impressed. Jess and Maggie simply doubled up with laughter.

‘Oh, you’re a one!’

‘Just you wait, you funny little thing!’

‘Proper little caution, you are.’

‘Absolutely priceless. Ooh, stop me laughing or I’ll wet myself!’

I didn’t like them laughing at me, but I knew there was no malice in their cackles. We walked back onto the factory floor together. The same gawky lad whistled at me.

‘Oh, there you are, Opal. Young Freddy’s fallen for you already!’ said Maggie, and Jess made silly kissing noises.

‘Well, I’m not falling for him!’ I hissed, going pink with indignation.

Freddy had hair stuck flat to his forehead with cheap pomade, and he’d clearly grown recently and rapidly, because his sleeves stopped several inches from his bony wrists and there was a similar gap between his trousers and his boots.

‘Is he not good enough for you?’ said Maggie, with a slight edge to her voice.

‘Oh no, I don’t mean that at all,’ I said – though that was precisely what I felt.

‘Don’t worry, dear. You’re obviously bright as a button and you speak lovely, like a little lady,’ said Jess.

‘So what are you doing here, eh?’ asked Maggie.

‘Well, I . . .’ I swallowed hard. ‘My family need the money.’

It was a painful admission. The girls at school would have been shocked and embarrassed by such a confession, but Jess and Maggie sighed and smiled at me.

‘Down on your luck, dear? Well, good for you to help out.’

‘Yes, well done, pet. Your parents must be proud of you.’

I wished they were. I had no real idea what Father was thinking. Mother was too distracted and miserable to feel anything very much. When I got home after the desperately long afternoon, Cassie was taking a turn making the wretched little rabbits, while Mother was stirring a thick vegetable soup on the stove. Both her hands were bandaged and she winced when she stopped stirring to cut chunks of bread.

‘Did you have a better day today, dear?’ she asked wearily.

‘Let’s have a look at your hair! Did they give you another starch shampoo?’ asked Cassie.

‘I didn’t give them the chance. I shot out of there the very second the bell rang,’ I said.

‘Good for you,’ she said. ‘Oh Lordy, these rabbits are all staring at me with their beady little eyes. Horrid things.’

‘Shall I help too?’ I offered reluctantly, though I was so weary I just wanted to fling myself down on the sofa and sleep.

‘Well, we’ve got at least a dozen more to do tonight – so yes, come here. You stuff this little beggar while I cut out the next,’ said Cassie.

I sat down and started stuffing. My fingers ached after moulding all day. I couldn’t get the sawdust to fill the spindly limbs properly. It went up my nails and hurt, and when I started sewing the limbs to the body, I managed to dig the needle into the soft pad of my thumb while struggling to pull it through the felt. No wonder Mother was wearing bandages.

Just as she served the soup there was a knock on the door.

‘Oh no, our soup will get cold!’ said Cassie. ‘Don’t answer it, Mother!’

‘I’m not going to, don’t worry,’ she replied. ‘It’ll only be that terrible Liversedge woman again.’

‘But what if it’s someone important? Oh Lord, what if it’s someone with news of Father?’ I said, feeling sick.

I imagined a policeman standing there, pale under his helmet. I imagined his voice saying, ‘So sorry, miss, but is Ernest Harold Plumstead your father? The gentleman who is currently in Whitechurch remand prison? Well, I’m very sorry to tell you that there’s been a sad accident – a matter of rope in his cell. I’m afraid he’s gone and hanged himself.’ The voice echoed in my head as plain as anything, though I was still sitting at our kitchen table, stuffing a little rabbit so hard its leg swelled as if it had dropsy.

Mother and Cassie looked at me.

‘How could there be news of Father?’ said Cassie shakily.

‘I’d better go and see.’ Mother scrabbled at her apron with bandaged hands. She went out of the kitchen and Cassie suddenly clasped me tightly.

‘You don’t half smell of sugary sweets,’ she said.

We both strained our ears. We could hear a voice saying something and Mother murmuring, but we couldn’t gauge the tone. Then Mother said something else and we heard heavy footsteps in the hall.

‘Oh God, I think it
is
a policeman,’ I blurted. ‘I can’t bear it.’

I put my hands over my ears, not wanting to hear any further terrible news. But it wasn’t a policeman at all. Mr Andrews, my music teacher from school, came into our kitchen! I stared at him, open-mouthed. Cassie must have been even more bewildered, but he was a reasonably handsome man, so she tossed her hair about and stood up straight.

‘Good evening, sir,’ she said. ‘I’m Cassie and this is my sister, Opal. How can we help you?’