TWO
Home. Bolton 1903
At home, there was much which was different than in other mill
workers homes. Both her father and mother, whilst conforming to the norms of
their cotton town and their class existence, also had a secret, one which they
had passed on to their two sons and then Florence, and which they had already
started to pass on to her three younger brothers. The house contained books,
lots of books. Books of every sort from novels to instruction books. Books on
history, geography, travel, novels and a Bible. For them there was nothing
forbidden in the reading matter found in book cases and shelves around the
house. She and her family took to reading with pleasure, something her friends
often found strange and unusual. From an age when she first started to read at
school, her mother would take her to the lending library in town, and allow her
to select whatever book she wished to read from the children’s section. In this
way over the years Florence gained more of an education than most of the others
in her class, sometimes to the annoyance of her teacher, and often to the
surprise of all those friends around her. Florence did not flaunt this
knowledge. She realised at an early age that many of her young friends did not
have the same encouragement which she and her brothers had, and this fact would
often lead to taunting in the schoolyard at playtime. She kept quiet about her
knowledge as it slowly accumulated over the years. Along with the knowledge
grew a feeling that she would not follow in the footsteps of her mother or the
other women who lived on Waterloo Street. She would get out, sometime, somehow.
All that she needed to happen was for the opportunity to present itself.
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THREE
New
Years Day 1904
Florence
sat on the edge of her bed in the front bedroom which she shared with her
parents and two younger brothers, and she was sulking. The sulk was because of the
aftermath of the argument which she had had the previous evening with her
father, over his refusal to allow her to go to the funfair on Howell Croft. She
tapped her foot on the bare floorboards in annoyance, trying to work out how
she could persuade her Pa to allow her to go to the fair with Hettie. Leaning
forward, she pushed with her finger at the thin curtain and looked out of the
bedroom window for inspiration, but saw nothing in the heavy grey sky to help
her. The weather was cold, and there was a wind blowing from the west which
normally meant rain, but it was not normal December or January weather, it was
too warm. But still wet and miserable, which did nothing to lift her spirits or
inspire her. She sighed loudly and kicked at the book on the floor which she
had been reading alone in the bedroom, rather than reading it downstairs in the
company of the others. She could hear the noises from the room below of her
mother preparing a meal, and trying in vain to carry out a conversation with
her husband, who was trying to read the early edition of the Bolton Evening
News and the latest news from India of the opening of the Taj Mahal Palace
Hotel in Bombay. He knew he would never have the opportunity to visit the
place, but he read the account with interest, as he did with most items on the
international stage. It was a trait he had passed on throughout the lives of
all his children, an interest which was wide ranging and inclusive. His was a
home grown knowledge which he fostered in all his children, and which he
enhanced with visits to the free library.
The
noises from below were part of the background to her life as she racked her
brain to try to overcome the argument from the previous evening. She was
determined to get her Pa to change his mind. She and Hettie had been planning a
visit to the opening night of the annual winter fair for several days, and
finally had decided on what they would see and what they would do during the visit.
During tea, when the whole family was seated around the kitchen table eating
their meal, she had casually announced to them all that,
'Me and Hettie are off to the fair tonight,
should be good fun.'
Her
father continued to move the knife and fork on his plate, and failed even to
raise his head from his position of intense concentration on the meal.
'I
don’t think so young lady' he said quietly. Florence looked across the table at
him, her face blushing red with anger.
'Pa!
She said, 'I’m grown up now and bringing in a full wage, so I think we should be
allowed to do what we want.' She looked to her older brothers for their
agreement. The brothers said nothing, simply kept their heads down and carried
on eating, though Willie who was four years older than her, grinned and fought
hard to stop himself bursting into laughter, anticipating the coming storm. Her
father, William Henry, placed his cutlery down on the table, resting the knife
and fork against the side of his plate. He quietly brought his hands together,
his fingers forming a pyramid above his plate, and turned his head upwards to
view his daughter at the opposite side of the table. There was silence for a
moment, as the children old enough to recognise the challenge to their father’s
decision waited for the explosion which must be just around the corner.
'You
might be old enough' he said menacingly, 'and yes you are bringing in a full
wage, but you are not going to the fair on New Year's Eve with only Hettie by
your side.' He paused, then carried on as Florence fought to stop tears of
frustration brimming over her eyes and down onto her fair cheeks. 'It’s a
dangerous place for young women to go by themselves. You don’t know what could
happen. There are too many rough drunks there. You’re not going.' He met her
eyes quietly and held them until she broke his gaze and blinked in frustration
and pique. 'Its' for your own good.' William picked up his knife and fork and
continued to eat slowly, his head bent down to the plate. Florence banged her
chair back from the table and stalked furiously from the room, stamping up the
staircase which ran between the two downstairs rooms, and into the shared
bedroom. She slammed the bedroom door shut and threw herself onto the bed,
tears streaming from her eyes, her fists clenched in frustration. In the room
below, her father looked around the table at his two sons.
'Don’t
think you two are going either' he said quietly, pointing from one to the other
with the knife in his right hand. 'It’s too much likely there’ll be trouble.' He
licked a piece of food from his lips before carrying on. 'Don’t want my family
becoming known to the Police after getting into trouble.' The two boys nodded
silently and carried on with their tea. Silence fell, other than the muted
sounds from the bedroom above of Florence crying to herself.
In
time Florence dried her eyes and reached below the bed for one of her hidden
books and curled up under the covers for warmth, and in time fell asleep
reading.
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FOUR
Saturday 4th January 1904
The
fairground was always erected by travelling fairground people near to the
outside market on Howell Croft for almost two weeks, and towards the middle of
that period William relented and gave his permission for Florence to go to the
fair. By Saturday her anger had dissipated and she and Hettie looked forward to
their visit with excitement, planning and discussing during the walks to and
from work what they would wear and what rides and amusements they would go on,
providing they had enough money.
Shortly
after two o’clock on Saturday afternoon both girls strode in the cold grey
afternoon light off along Waterloo Street towards to the town centre with arms
linked together, ignoring the trams which ran from there to the market place.
They had no wish to spend any of their hard earned money needlessly on tram
fares when there was so much to excite them at the fair. When they arrived at
the fairground they were both immediately overwhelmed by the noise of the
rides, the shouting of the stall holders and the smells of sweets and toffee apples.
There was so much to see and hear that the cold they had felt on their walk
into town did not even figure in their minds, so excited were they. The lights
on the stalls dazzled them, and as the afternoon drew on and darkness started
to fall the whole place became a riotously noisy, magical place. Bright red
toffee coated apples were being sold from a small stall on the outer edge of
the fair, providing too much of a temptation, and both girls succumbed. They purchased
one each to eat as they strolled on the wet cobbled stone surface of the
fairground. A complete circuit of the fair took them thirty minutes, by which
time their lips were covered with a sticky smear of hard red toffee.
'Come
here Hettie' Florence said, beckoning her to her side. She took a small
handkerchief from the pocket of the long dark purple coloured woollen coat she
was wearing, the one her mother had bought her for Christmas. Taking the piece
of cloth in one hand she spat gently onto it and rubbed the red smear from around
her friend’s mouth. 'There, that’s better' she said, 'Now do me will you?' Hettie
took the handkerchief and repeated the process on Florence’s face. They glanced
at the results, nodding approval.
They
were standing near to one corner of the fair where a booth made from a large
multi-coloured brightly lit tent announced the display of two headed sheep, a
monstrous snake, Siamese twins, the world's strongest man and various similarly
contrived freaks of nature. They stood watching with mouths open, reading the
garish writing on the sides of the tent, and listening to the descriptions
shouted by the fairground man, Florence became aware of three young men walking
in front of them across their path. She glanced at the tallest of the three and
without looking directly at him nudged Hettie in the side, who at first turned
to remonstrate with her. Florence said nothing, but moved her eyes gently in
the direction of the group of men. Hettie followed her look and took the three
young men in with one glance. She looked back to Florence and grinned, then
stepped half a pace forward so that she was standing with her side to the group
so they could not see or hear what she was saying to her friend.
'What
do you think?' she asked quietly. Florence looked her friend in the eye and
replied,
'The
tall one’s mine.' She replied. Hettie nodded and said,
'I’ll
have the middle one.' The two girls sauntered towards the group, continuing to
read the words on the freak show stall, but placing themselves in a position so
that the men would become aware of them immediately. When they were sure that
they were within the men’s eye line, they stopped and turned to each other
talking nonsensical words, which the men were unable to hear, and smiling broad
smiles, which the men were well able to see, whilst offering them the best view
of themselves, dressed as they were in their long heavy coats and wide brimmed
hats.
The
tallest of the men nodded to his two companions in the direction of the girls, then
stepped forward a few paces until he was standing close to Florence’s shoulder.
He stood quietly and patiently whilst the two girls chattered on, pretending to
ignore him, yet being completely aware of his presence. Eventually Florence
stopped talking and made a half turn towards him.
'Yes?'
she asked, her eyes giving nothing away. 'What do you want?' He smiled at her
and briefly nodded his head, half turning back to his friends.
'My
brothers and I,' he said, half turning to indicate the other two men. 'My
brothers and I were wondering if you were going to stand there gossiping all
day, or whether you were going to get out the way so we could go in to see the
show.' His eyes were bright and cheeky. Florence blushed.
'Well,
I don’t know. The nerve of some folk' she huffed. Before she could pull away
from his presence he hurriedly added,
'No.
What I meant to say, my brothers and I were wondering if you would like to come
in with us.' He paused and smiled broadly for a moment before she could answer.
'I’m paying.' He added quickly, smiling directly at her. He rocked back on his
heels and held out one hand towards them, 'Come on, what’ve you got to lose?' Florence
looked away from him and back to Hettie.
'I
suppose we could couldn’t we? We’re not doing nowt special are we?' Hettie
grinned back at her nodding her head.
'Better
than standing out in the cold isn’t it?'
'I
suppose you're right about that. And if they’re paying it means we won’t be
wasting our own money will we?'
'No
you’re right. It makes sense.' She turned to the young man who had listened to
the exchange with a broadening grin on his face.
'Come
on ladies, we’ll look after you. Make sure the sheep doesn’t get you.' He took
Florence by the elbow and directed her back towards the two other young men who
had come to join them. 'Right,' he said to Florence. 'They're my two brothers
and my names Tommy.' Florence nodded to the two younger men who had stood
silently at the edge of the group nodding shyly in turn at both of the young
women.
'I'm
Florence, and this is my friend Hettie' she said. 'Are we going in then?'
Tommy
nodded and indicated with his glance for one of his brothers to take Hettie’s
arm. Hettie allowed herself to be guided gently alongside Tommy and Florence
into the freak show tent.
The
darkened interior of the tent added to the eerie atmosphere of the attraction,
which encouraged Florence not to draw away when Tommy started to gently pull
her closer to him. As they walked slowly around the tent, peering at the
curiosities, Florence felt Tommy’s presence growing closer and closer, then he
would pull away again, as if to demonstrate to her that his intentions were
purely protective, and nothing more. Florence for her part played along with
him. She drew close when they stopped, and gently pulled away when they started
to walk again. Each time they drew closer she felt her heart start to beat
faster under her coat, and her hands started to sweat within the thin cotton
gloves she wore on her hands. Eventually they had seen all the exhibits at
least twice and could find no other excuses to remain inside the tent.
'What
do you feel like doing now?' Tommy asked her as they came out of the tent into
the cold evening air once more. Florence glanced at her friend for inspiration,
but Hettie simply looked back at her with a blank expression on her face.
'Don’t
know' she said, when Hettie failed to offer any thoughts. 'What did you have in
mind?' she asked. He was taller than her, and broad at the shoulder. His hair
was dark brown and cut smartly short above his ears. He wore a brown jacket
over a white collared shirt with a tie, and dark brown trousers which were cut
smartly over a pair of highly polished lace up boots. She liked what she saw,
and allowed him to keep hold of her elbow, edging a little closer to him. Tommy
reached into his jacket exposing a waistcoat under it and the chain of a fob
watch drawn across from one small pocket to the other. He took the watch from
the pocket and glanced down at it before deftly replacing it.
'Half
past four' he announced. 'How about going for a drink?' He glanced at Florence
for a response who looked anxiously at Hettie.
'I’m
not sure, I’ve never been in a pub before.' She said. 'My dad wouldn’t be best
pleased if he found out.'
'Well,
we’ll just have to make sure we don’t tell him then shan’t we?' His grin was
warm and infectious, so it was hard for Florence not to grin back at him. For a
few moments they walked on the cobbles of Howell Croft and inspected the
various stalls, avoiding as best they could the crowds of young boys who rushed
helter skelter from one stall to another, threatening to bowl them over. Florence
suddenly stopped and pulled slightly away from the hold which Tommy had on her
elbow.
'I’m
not going to lie to my Pa. It’s not something I’ve done in the past, and I’m
not going to start now, so I don't think we should go for a drink in a pub.'
She said firmly. Tommy was taken aback by the statement from the young woman. He
looked her in the eyes and, after a moment's thought nodded his head in
acceptance of her directive. He liked what he saw, and for a girl as young as
she was, he felt she was very different from other girls he had been out with. He
smiled warmly at her, his dark brown eyes fixed on hers.
'How
old are you Florence?' he asked.
'I’ll
be sixteen next month, the twenty sixth' she said, adding with a grin. 'So what
you going to buy me for my birthday?'
He
grinned back at her. 'Well, how about some black peas' he said.
'Had
some. Don’t want any more, might give me the runs. You know what black peas are
like.' They both laughed and then his face became serious. He looked her in the
eyes once more before asking quietly.
'How
about a rail ticket to Plymouth then?' Florence was unable to make any sense
from the question, and the puzzlement showed in her face.
'A
what?' she said, a bemused look crossing her face.
'I’m
going to join the Navy soon' he said quietly, 'Might want someone from home to
come and see me at odd times, and a ticket to Plymouth should come in handy.' A
blast of cold wind blew across the fairground and caught under the wide brim of
her hat, threatening to lift it from her head. Her hand shot up to steady it,
pulling the soft felt dark blue brim down onto her head and tugging at the wide
ribbon on the crown to fasten it more securely.
The
ribbon had been supplied by her father who ran a small business selling ribbons
and bows from the mill suppliers, so there was always a good supply at home for
her to select from when she needed to trim up an otherwise dull dress or shawl.
Florence’s dresses, hats and shawls were noted by her friends for their sense
of high decoration, and from time to time she was commissioned by those friends
to make them a dress or hat from material she could purchase easily in the
town.
The
hat was now firmly crushed down onto the thick flowing hair she had crammed
under it. She suddenly threaded her hand through Tommy’s arm by his side and
gently pulled him to her and started to walk. Tommy smiled to himself and guided
her away from the noisy fairground and to the front of Victoria Square and the
town hall. They talked as they walked, Florence oblivious of the fact that they
had left her friend Hettie in the company of Tommy’s two brothers on the
fairground.
'When
are you going to join the navy Tommy?' she finally asked.
'Soon.'
he replied thoughtfully. She said nothing, realising that his answer was
incomplete. 'I’ve got a good job at the moment. I’m a fitter and turner and I've
done my apprenticeship at Horwich Loco Works, so I’ve got my papers, and that
should be good enough qualifications to join the navy with. I’ve been in the
job for over ten years now and qualified for over four, I’m twenty four now,'
he added. 'There’s not much else here in Bolton for me to do. There's no
promotion unless I wait for somebody to die, and I’ve always fancied seeing the
world, and the navy seems to be the best way of doing it.' He stopped talking to
allow her to take in the flow of information and waited for her questions. He
did not wait for too long.
'So
what would you do in the navy then?' she asked.
'Well
I went to Blackpool last September for the day and there were a couple of Royal
Navy ships going to Fleetwood, so I caught a tram there and had a chat with
some of the recruiting people on board one of them. It sounded right
interesting. They reckoned that with my qualifications and on- the-job-experience
that I could easily qualify as an Artificer after my first lot of training.' Florence
looked at him quizzically.
'What’s
an Artisi...Artisi...' she stumbled over the word. Tommy grinned and helped her
out.
'An
Art-if-i-cer' he enunciated slowly, 'It’s somebody what looks after the engines
and electrics and guns and stuff on a ship. Bit like what I do now, but more
important, ‘cos it’s the artificers who keep the ship going, and keeps the guns
and torpedoes in good fettle. No good having a ship what can’t shoot its guns
is there?' She nodded her head in silent agreement then after a moments' pause
she asked.
'When
are you thinking of going then?'
'Well,
in a few months' he replied quickly. 'I have a big job on at the moment at
work; don’t want to walk out in the middle of that. Need to get it boxed off
and out the way before joining. If I walked out in the middle of the job then
my employer isn’t going to give me a right good recommendation is he?' Florence
shook her head thoughtfully and murmured,
'No,
I see. Wouldn’t be the right thing to do would it?'
There
was a long break in their conversation as they walked amongst the Saturday
afternoon crowds pushing along and across Victoria Square. Occasionally one or
other of them would stop to look in a shop by the side of the square, then
start walking again. After several minutes of slow walking in the cold winters
falling light she stopped and faced towards him.
'Where
do you live Tommy?' she asked. He paused for a second then answered,
'I
live up the top of Deane Road. In The Pocket.' She glanced up at him, he was
three or four inches taller than her.
'Can’t
say I know it.' She said. 'I live on Waterloo Street, up near Back O’th Bank.'
He nodded his head in acknowledgement and then said what she had been waiting
patiently to hear.
'Do
you think we can see each other again?' he asked. She smiled at him slyly, her
eyes bright and glistening in the cold. The corners of her mouth twitched up
then settled down again.
'Don’t
see why not' she said, 'If you’ve nothing better to do.'
'Oh
I can think of a dozen things I should be doing.' He said grinning
mischievously, 'But nothing I can’t put off if it means seeing you again
Florence.' A broad smile spread quickly across his face and he was rewarded
with a similar expression across Florence’s. She squeezed his arm and they
turned to walk towards Knowsley Street and in the general direction of
Florence’s home. Both of their minds were filled with thoughts of their
conversations and the feelings both had experienced.
The
following morning, Sunday, all the Hadfield family walked together up the road
to the Iron Church, where they took part in the morning service conducted by
the Reverend Collier who had been in the post for just a few months. His
sermons were not too long, and most of the congregation seemed to like him. After
the service had ended, Florence and the family once more walked back down
Blackburn Road. Florence made her way hurriedly home ahead of the others, to
change from her church clothes to her best Sunday dress and best boots, to walk
out with Tommy who she had surreptitiously arranged to meet outside the Victoria
Hall on Knowsley Street. It had taken the connivance and collusion of Hettie to
make the rendezvous, but it appeared her parents suspected nothing, and at two
o’clock that day she met with Thomas once more beneath the great terracotta tower
of the Victoria Hall opposite the Market Hall.
As she hurried down the hill along Knowsley Street from St
George’s Road, she felt her heart beating faster than normal and her head was
filled with all manner of thoughts about the man she was to meet. Though he was
some eight years older than her she felt at ease with him, and more than a
little excited at the prospect of what might lie ahead. Harriet, her mother,
had recognised that something was different in her daughter the previous
evening when she had returned from town from the fairground, but had said nothing
to her husband William. Suddenly the girl who had been her daughter had
acquired an air about her which she recognised from her own life experience as
a woman. In Harriet's mind this change could only be attributed to her daughter
having met a man, a man who had stirred in her daughter feelings which she had
not fully experienced before, but feelings which was subtly changing her from a
girl into a woman. She kept her thoughts and observations to herself for the
time being, but silently realised that the change she had seen in her daughter
might have far reaching consequences for the young woman and the family as a
whole.
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