Snapshots from Home, page 27
In truth, the card system was designed as an insidious method of breaking down friendships between foremen and workers, or workers and their fellows. The first step in shattering unity is to make men mistrust one another – to make them start watching and reporting on each other. It takes the attention off the social problem of poverty, as well as the bad working conditions: low pay, unemployment, long hours, lock-out rules, injuries and death, and not enough tools to go around.
Have enclosed latest set of your League snaps. I much admired the portrait of Private Acton’s former poddy calf and I’m sure he’ll be excessively proud of the fine bull it has become.
Yours etc.
Teddy
PS I hope the indigo was to your satisfaction.
Edie made herself put down the pen she’d seized to write back. Miss Raison’s ban on her mixing with Teddy aside, she mustn’t carry on an eager exchange with a man who’d told her he was in love with her only a month or so before. It was the worst kind of leading someone on.
Amelia knocked at her bedroom door and sang out to Edie.
‘Come in,’ Edie called back.
‘Post,’ said Amelia, placing a letter beside her elbow. She noticed the letter Edie had hastily folded. ‘Have you already had some mail today?’
‘This is an old letter.’ Edie tucked it into a book.
Amelia raised her eyebrows but let it rest. ‘What are you going to wear to the Ellingtons’ dance this weekend?’
‘Are we going?’ Edie asked.
‘Of course!’
‘Miss Raison doesn’t mind?’
‘Oh, don’t you know? She’s told all the teachers we must attend to support the Ellingtons’ fundraising efforts – she’s even put a few bob down to cover our tickets. She told us all after school yesterday but – of course – you’d already dashed off with Kitty to do your snapping. I should have mentioned it last night, sorry.’
‘She’s quite adamant about us going, is she?’
‘You know what she’s like with the Ellingtons.’ Amelia raised an eyebrow. ‘She’s been trying to get her hands on Amy for two years now and it looks like all that sucking up might finally pay off. Mrs Macmillan recommended the school to Amy’s father and he’s made an appointment with Miss Raison. She’d go to just about any lengths to show her approbation of whatever the Ellingtons do, now. If Mr Ellington declared that everyone should be eating nothing but pickled eggs on Thursdays, Miss Raison would be the first one buying hens and vinegar.’
Edie was half-amused, half-exasperated. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll be going along to this dance, then.’
‘I have a gorgeous new blue silk dress. Dare I wear it, Edie? My mother altered an old gown from her dancing days and made it frightfully modern. I love it.’
‘You must wear it.’ Edie was firm. ‘The Ellington girls are very fashionable and they’ll adopt you immediately.’
‘Then you must wear your sweet spotted tea-gown and we’ll dress it up with your pink hat and a sash to match, yes?’
Edie nodded, glad she could decide what to wear and not have to hide it from her father. At least for a while longer, anyway. Amelia left her alone and Edie read the letter she’d brought. It was from the YMCA – a request card from Private L Tippett, asking for snaps of his home at Cavendish Hill, Malebelling. She knew from her trips around the area that Malebelling was a good distance from York town. Too far to walk. With distaste, she pictured herself riding in a sulky with Mr Cummings, the boys’ school rector. She had precious few other options. If only she had a bicycle. She hadn’t ridden one since she was a girl but there were two other teachers who got about on them. But this trip was too far and the roads too bad for a bicycle, anyway.
The other problem was Kitty. How to break the news to the girl that her brother had been deemed unsuitable company for Edie? She would be so mortified – so hurt. Edie sighed an angry sigh that was directed at Miss Raison but also at her father. It didn’t matter that he had nothing to do with any of this, her frustration was with the very ideas of suitability and propriety. With the idea that she could turn her nose up at a person who had assisted with her League work for months already, simply because her employer wished to distance herself from him in pursuit of her own ambitions. Abruptly, the restriction felt unbearable – almost suffocating.
Edie pushed the card from Private Tippett back into its envelope and tucked it into the book on her desk with Teddy’s letter. The problem was too complicated to solve right away. She would need to think up some clever way to keep the truth from Kitty and Mrs Macmillan, to approach the repellent Mr Cummings and his underfed horse, and to get family photos done for Private L Tippett of Cavendish Hill.
Edie, Amelia and Faye walked to the Town Hall together on Friday evening, chattering with the excitement of a dance. They met the Harris young women outside the door – even Marion had come, and her facial palsy seemed much improved. Edie waved when she spotted Mrs Macmillan arriving in the sulky, Teddy at the reins. Mrs Macmillan waved back, resplendent in a mustard silk turban with a large, curling ostrich feather sprouting from the top. Teddy gave her a nod that seemed to have something of the co-conspirator in it. It made her feel better about having to ignore him.
June and Donald Ellington greeted people as they arrived, handing out programs and explaining how the evening would run: there would be mingling, then dancing, then supper, with games intended to raise money for the war effort in between. Across the room, at the foot of the sweeping jarrah staircase, Miss Raison was already there with her gaggle of teachers young and not-as-young. She gave Edie’s party a look that commanded them to join her.
‘No one’s to dance with any young man more than once, unless it’s an Ellington or a Monger,’ she told them all in a low voice. ‘Sit out at least twice during the evening so all the girls here get to dance with a chap. No giggling, don’t drink any wine, and we shall all retire to our places of residence at eleven.’
Faye made a soft noise in her throat that Edie knew was utter outrage. Leave a dance at eleven!? Edie was at risk of bursting into laughter and was only saved by the imperious flick of Miss Raison’s hand.
‘Go forth and be an example to the other young ladies in town.’
Edie went to chat with the Harris sisters near the door again but there was a commotion – a conversation between Donald Ellington and Teddy that had the attention of bystanders. Mrs Macmillan, deep in conversation with Mrs Thielemann, hadn’t noticed.
‘Don Ellington is having cross words with Teddy Macmillan,’ Marion murmured.
Edie gave up pretending not to stare. Teddy was listening as Donald spoke. Donald nodded towards his father. Shooting him a sardonic smile, Teddy shook his head and said something in reply that stopped Donald in his tracks. He straightened and gazed at Teddy for some moments, then said something back that made Teddy give a laconic shrug and head for the front door. His eyes met Edie’s for a split second before he slipped out of the hall. Edie spotted June, who was directing people like a baroness and pretending nothing untoward was going on. She hurried over to her and Anne Ellington, standing nearby.
‘May I enquire about the circumstances of Teddy Macmillan leaving?’ Edie asked, trying to steady her voice.
Anne blinked and June lifted her chin. ‘Don’t you know what Teddy did a few weeks ago, dear? He tried to inflame the workers at our mill! My father won’t be in the same room as him since.’
‘I understand that your father resents Mr Macmillan’s interference in his business, but surely he can overlook it for a friendly social occasion? It will give such pain to Mrs Macmillan …’
June observed Edie for a long moment. ‘Sweet on him, are you?’
It felt like a slap. ‘It’s a shame to see a private disagreement brought into an occasion like this. We’re all here for a good cause. We’re in a public place – not a private home. If Mr Ellington—’ Edie stopped because June had turned deliberately away.
Anne slipped an arm through Edie’s and drew her away to a quieter part of the hall. ‘Dad won’t have him here, Edie. He wanted Teddy put before a magistrate for what he did. He said it was as good as treason – accused him of working for the other side. It’s all nonsense, I’m sure, but Teddy’s political leanings are – well, quite wicked. We can’t have him stirring up trouble in our mill. The workers don’t have the intellect to grasp the matter; they can’t tell the difference between Teddy’s propaganda and the facts. They just get angry and restless and talk about striking. A man was shot dead in Sydney yesterday – did you hear? A striker. We mustn’t allow such madness to infect us here in York, where it’s peaceful and workers are content, and people live safe lives.’
‘But Teddy isn’t lying to them,’ Edie burst out. ‘He’s only telling them about things that are happening in the other parts of the country. It’s not propaganda, it’s the truth.’
Anne looked at her strangely and said nothing. Edie glanced at June, who still had her back turned, then across at Miss Raison, who was nodding energetically as Mrs Ellington declaimed on the topic of her new stove.
Edie steeled herself and lied to Anne. ‘You’re right. You’re absolutely right. This party is no place to risk a private disagreement flaring up. It’s best that Mr Macmillan leaves.’
She wished Anne a pleasant evening and attempted to melt back into her group. Amelia, Faye and the Harris girls had all been watching, and now they clamoured for details. Edie told them Teddy had been asked to leave after his actions with the millworkers.
‘It’s almost intolerable,’ Amelia said, shaking her head. ‘Why does he insist on being so very bad, but so very good-looking?’
‘It’s a pity,’ Faye agreed. ‘Edie’s thick with the Macmillans,’ she told the Harris girls. ‘She knows them very well.’
Edie hurried to explain. ‘Kitty assists me with my Snapshots from Home League work and Mrs Macmillan was kind enough to invite me for a supper or two.’
‘He should be in prison,’ Kath Harris declared. ‘He’s a menace, running around town trying to agitate the workers. The farmers have had an awful lot of trouble with unions stirring up the labourers. Mr Jinks had to join the Westralia Farmers’ Association for help negotiating with those awful union men. One year, he had no workers at all to help us with harvest! Us girls had to work with Dad – him and Davy using the stripper and us loading the heads into the thresher, all by ourselves. It almost did us in.’
‘The pay was very bad that year,’ Marion reminded her. ‘The labourers barely made enough to keep themselves fed. I didn’t blame them for objecting.’
‘Marion!’ Her sister was scandalised. ‘That wasn’t Mr Jinks’s fault. The crop was poor, the prices were bad and he couldn’t afford to pay much for harvest.’
‘He didn’t want his profit affected,’ Marion said stoutly. ‘It wasn’t the workers’ fault, either, but they – and we – had to bear the consequences.’’
‘Next you’ll be down at the mill with Teddy Macmillan, passing out handbills,’ Jane teased Marion, who shot her a withering look.
Edie excused herself, claiming she wished to speak to the parent of a pupil, but as soon as June Ellington’s attention was taken up with the conductor of the band, she slipped out through the Town Hall doors. Outside, the road was lit up and busy with cars and carriages as people arrived and found places to park or rest their horses. Stablemen and drivers milled about, nattering. Men who didn’t keep such servants dashed around, managing their own vehicles and horses. Women made their way towards the Town Hall, adjusting hats and gowns as they avoided piles of manure in the road. Inside the hall, the band struck up.
Edie recognised the Macmillan sulky and their horse George a way down the road before she spotted the figure of Teddy leaning against a post. She hurried over, keeping her face down for fear of being seen. He was alone, yellow light coming through the Imperial Hotel’s window behind him. Edie stopped at the side of the sulky and Teddy straightened up, plainly startled by her arrival.
‘Mr Macmillan, I’m sorry to hear you’ve been …’ Edie searched for the word.
‘Chucked out?’
She couldn’t help laughing, puffing steam into the chilly night air. ‘It’s self-importance at its worst. I expected better of Mr Ellington.’
‘Did you? I think his pride was hurt when I implied he’s not the most generous employer in York, as he likes to tell people.’ Teddy sighed. ‘Perhaps I oughtn’t have done it. Mum’s upset with me. She values her friendship with the Ellingtons and it looks like I’ve ruined that for her.’
‘Perhaps it was ill-advised.’ Edie chewed her lip, then rushed on. ‘But it was necessary – someone had to do it. It’s only right that the millworkers were informed about the Great Strike.’
Teddy seemed relieved. ‘Ellington’s workers were already upset. He’d been giving them a ration of flour as part of their pay, but now he claims the War Office needs the flour and he’s stopped handing it out. There’s no increase in their pay though – so they’re worse off. One bloke suggested striking and he got sacked.’
‘Then you did the right thing to pass out the handbills,’ she said.
He lifted a hand and stroked George’s nose. ‘I recently became aware of certain shortcomings in my personality. I haven’t always acted upon my beliefs when it was called for – I’ve been all talk and no action. I wanted to change that about myself.’ Teddy stopped.
Edie stepped forward and took his hand impulsively, giving it a firm shake. ‘I honour you for that.’
He said nothing, but gripped her warm hand in his cool one. They stayed like that.
‘It’s a shame you cannot attend the dance.’ Edie barely knew what she said. ‘It will be far less interesting for the want of your company.’
He stayed silent but didn’t let go of her hand. She wasn’t pulling away either. Edie was turning hot, in complete defiance of the outside temperature. Teddy’s eyes were impossible to see in the dark but she felt like they were on her face and couldn’t think of a thing to say.
A shout and some laughter rose from where the drivers were collected further along the street. Edie withdrew her hand at last, heart still hammering.
‘Will you go home, then?’ she asked.
‘I considered it. But I don’t want to leave Mum at the dance without a driver.’
‘Do you want me to let her know you’ve had to leave? I can help her arrange a ride home.’
Teddy laughed. ‘Do you know, I don’t expect she’ll even realise I’m not in there. She gets so caught up in chatting and mingling, she’s only aware of the person right in front of her.’ He put a hand on George’s hairy neck. ‘I’ll sit out here with King George and discuss the state of his empire and the likelihood of his making peace with his cousins.’
‘But you’ll be cold.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a thick coat and if I start to freeze I’ll hop into the Imperial for a whisky.’
Edie hovered. She wished she could stay outside and wait in the sulky with him and find out more about the Ellingtons’ millworkers. Or just talk – about anything. She didn’t even want to dance any more.
‘Miss Stark, you’ll be missed if you don’t go back in.’ His voice was low and regretful. ‘Miss Raison will note your absence.’
‘She can go and boil her head.’
Teddy’s astonished laugh rang out, attracting the attention of a couple of arriving parties.
Edie stepped back from him. ‘I won’t take any pleasure in this event.’
He recovered himself. ‘I hope you’re wrong.’
She went inside. Unfortunately June was back in place at the door to welcome people. She was surprised into speechlessness to see Edie entering for a second time. Edie mumbled something about getting some air that she knew June wouldn’t in a thousand years believe, then slunk back to her group of friends.
And although it was warm and the lights were bright, the room was pretty and the clothing was fine, the conversation was amusing and her friends abundant, but Edie had been right: she didn’t take pleasure in the event. Her mind wasn’t even in the room. It was outside in the chill and dark, with the scent of horseflesh and leather, and the rumble of working men’s conversations and the steaming of breath.
22
On Urgent League Business
Guildford
23rd September 1917
Dear Edith,
I have excellent news. Young Hammond visited this afternoon and told me of his intention. He asked me for your hand, which of course I have approved.
He was eloquent in his praise of you, which I suppose must be agreeable for you to hear. Be sure not to make him regret his choice through any foolishness or immodesty. I have worked long and hard to cultivate this relationship, and it has taken me into social situations I would normally avoid. He intends to pay his addresses upon your return. I trust you will do everything proper to bring the situation to its completion.
Has the Raison woman said you must give the full term’s notice? If there’s some way to get out of it without causing offence, do so.
Your father,
Frederick Stark
West Guildford
23rd September 1917
My dear darling Edie,
Please don’t hate me. It’s just he’s such a dear and so funny. No one could ever replace darling Aubrey and if there was any chance in this world that I could have him back, I wouldn’t so much as glance at another man, but Barney is an utter scream and if I’m going to trudge through this old life without Aubrey, I may as well have someone who makes me laugh by my side.
Edie, do you hate me?
All my best love,
