Nancy Carson - The Dressmaker’s Daughter

So Eve and Lizzie were finally left to themselves in their little house, which had, over the years, been so crowded with family that there was barely room to move. Lizzie soon took advantage of Joe’s departure by moving into the larger of the two front bedrooms. Eve reflected that as each year passed, so the population within had decreased; as each in turn left, or was taken by the good Lord, the quieter it became. No day passed, though, when Joe or May would not call to see them. Because May continued to work, Eve took on the extra task of doing their washing, for which Joe paid his mother handsomely. He was aware that the loss of his wage would hit them hard. Lizzie was the only one now earning any money at number 48, and her wage was barely enough to keep them in starch. His mother, approaching sixty, could hardly be expected to find a job, though many women her age worked. In any case, Joe vowed he would not allow her to. As far as he was concerned she’d done a lifetime’s labour rearing her children and looking after a husband whom Joe, these days, was not sure had been everything that a husband should be.

May, too, was considerate. She would buy an extra couple of chops, or an extra half dozen eggs, especially for Eve and Lizzie. It pleased her to do so, since she felt closer to her mother-in-law than to her own mother. In any case she could afford it. She would pay for a quart of lamp oil from Theedhams whenever Lizzie said they needed any, and send round two plated dinners of a Sunday, to save Eve the trouble and expense of a Sunday joint.

Ted and Grenville usually called to see their mother at a weekend, Grenville on a Saturday when Wolverhampton Wanderers were playing away. Ted’s day was a Sunday when his shop was shut. Between them, they donated what they could to the welfare of their mother and youngest sister.

Even their kindness, however, was insufficient to maintain them in anything like a comfortable existence, and it was especially hard on Eve. Although Isaac had been nothing less than a swine in many respects he always turned his money up. Consequently, they’d always lived well, though he’d never saved; gambling and drink had devoured all his spare cash. Now, things were different. Eve thought she might be entitled to some parish relief, but the indignity of having to ask precluded her from getting it. So she struggled on, managing with what they had, with what was donated, and with what could be bought cheaply.

New clothes were out of the question. Fortunately, Eve could mend and alter the old clothes that remained in the house in abundance, cast-offs from the departed members of the family. Shoes were more of a problem, though; Lizzie wore out shoes quickly, having to walk the mile or so to and from work every day. During the summer Eve took care of every last penny, conscious that come the winter, they would need extra coal to keep warm.

Lizzie realised she was destined to live with her mother for the foreseeable future, even when she eventually wed, and the man she married would have to accept it. Indeed, it would have to be a condition of marriage.

It surprised Lizzie that Tom Dando was so consistently kind to her mother. His Wednesday evening visits with Sarah continued with a regularity that was almost monotonous. Fridays also, on his way home from work, he would hand money to Eve and tell her it was a bit of pension from Turner’s Brass Foundry. Tom’s own family were all grown up and gone, with the exception of Sylvia, so he evidently felt he could afford to help Eve.

Lizzie asked her mother why it was that Tom seemed to favour her so much.

‘Oh, when we was young, your Uncle Tom was sweet on me.’ Her eyes smiled distantly at the recollection of it. ‘In fact, when I married your father it broke his heart.’

‘But they were cousins, Mother.’

‘Well, that was neither here nor there, our Lizzie.’ Eve folded up the newspaper she’d been reading. ‘Me and your Uncle Tom was sweethearts afore ever I met your father – I was a handsome fleshed madam in them days, though I say it meself, and I had one or two nice, young men after me. Tom’s two years older than me and I knew then what a lovely chap he was, even though I was only just eighteen.’

Lizzie leaned towards her mother’s better ear. ‘So how did you meet my father?’

‘At their old Uncle Eli’s funeral. Tom took me to show me off to his family. We’d been courtin’ a long while. It was there as I met your father all done up in his best black suit and best bowler. Oh, our Lizzie, I only clapped eyes on him and I knew as I’d marry him. He was a lot older than me – about twenty-six at the time – but they said as how he was still a bachelor and a right one for the women, an’ all. Well, when we’d gone back to their uncle’s house for the wake, Isaac come a-talking to me and Tom. After a bit, Tom went to get himself another drink, and Isaac told me how lovely I looked and how as he’d love to kiss me. I remember I blushed to me roots, but there was something about him as took me fancy. After that I kept on thinking about him, even when I was with Tom. Anyroad, afore long I met him again, and I was all of a tiswas. Well, he asked me if I’d meet him one night. So I did, unbeknowns to Tom. I enjoyed meself that much I said I’d see him again and, afore I knew what’d hit me, I was in love – well and truly … and I reckoned I could cure him of his womanising. Anyway, when I told Tom what’d been going on he was heartbroken.’

‘So were they friends after that, Uncle Tom and my father? I wouldn’t have been very pleased if a cousin of mine had stolen my man.’

‘Well, they weren’t very friendly when it first happened, our Lizzie, I can tell you, but they still worked together. They had to. Jobs was scarce in them days and they had to put up with one another, ’cause they worked as a team. But, when Tom met Sarah, they patched up their differences. Tom never forgave your father, though, for pinchin’ me off him. Even the day I got married he told me as he’d always love me.’

‘And did you cure my father of his womanising?’

Perhaps Eve did not catch Lizzie’s question, or pretended not to, but it struck Lizzie how convenient deafness could be at times. ‘You know that lovely Coalport China tea set what’s at the top of the cupboard up there? That was Tom’s weddin’ present to me. When I’m dead and gone it’s yours, our Lizzie. But I want you to promise me now as you’ll cherish it.’

‘Course I’ll cherish it, if it means that much to you.’

Eve nodded and remained with her thoughts for a few minutes, till she picked up her newspaper and began reading again. Lizzie smiled to herself. Evidently she was to be told nothing more. But what she’d been told did not surprise her. Often she heard Uncle Tom and her mother laughing about some incident or some person from the old days; she’d seen the glances that flashed between them, conveying some private understanding. Lizzie wondered whether her mother ever felt she’d married the wrong man. If she’d married Uncle Tom instead, she, Lizzie, would not be sitting here now, contemplating it all. Lizzie was curious how her Aunt Sarah viewed all this; since she must know about this relationship of decades ago. It was so long ago that surely it must be a joke now; regarded benignly as some folly of youth. Certainly Tom and Sarah seemed content. They’d reared a family, too.

Uncle Tom must have looked a lot like Stanley when he was young, Lizzie thought. He was dark, too, and tall, and slender as a lath. He must have been very handsome as a young man with his twinkling, blue eyes and his roguish laugh.

Lizzie’s thoughts turned inevitably to Stanley. She’d heard nothing from him since he joined the army, though she knew he’d been back home for a few days when his training finished. She often thought about him, wondering whether it was because of her that he joined? Was it to get away from her? Was it because he’d started something he didn’t feel inclined to finish? She hoped not; she could scarcely countenance the thought of him being hurt in some skirmish of war, when he might otherwise have been at home. She would always feel responsible. Or was it collusion between Uncle Tom and her mother, after she had asked if it were true that cousins could marry? But she and Stanley were young; little more than children; lots of things might have happened to part them, even if they had started courting. There was nothing to say they would ever get married. So why should he have gone away?