A Woman’s Fortune. Josephine Cox
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at the kitchen sink. ‘At least he hasn’t come asking for any rent.’
‘We’ll have to pay him eventually,’ Jeanie replied. ‘And Mum is full of ideas for our little business and wants to get started. We’ll need to have enough money for the rent when the time comes, and there’s no one else offering a sewing service in Church Sandleton. So far, anyway. We can’t be the only ones with a sewing machine and Mum’s worried someone may pip us at the post if we don’t get started soon.’
‘Can’t she set up business without asking Bailey?’ Michael sank into a chair to watch Jeanie work.
‘I expect so, but it is his property, after all. It’s only polite to tell him what we want to do, see if it’s all right with him.’
‘Why would he object, though? It’s not like you’re opening a – I don’t know – a pub or summat you’d need legal permission for.’
‘Or an undertaker’s,’ piped up Robert, at the far end of the kitchen table. ‘That would be horrible and creepy. You’d have dead people in the front room and, Dad, you’d have to wear a tall black hat.’
‘Good grief, Bob, I don’t know where you get such ideas,’ laughed Jeanie, pulling a quizzical face at Michael. ‘Anyway, I’ve decided that if Mr Bailey’s not coming to us then I’m going to him. Mum looked out her sewing machine this morning, oiled it and everything. Evie’s written a neat little notice to pin up in the shop, offering alterations, curtain- and dressmaking, and mending. Once that’s up we’ll need to be ready for our customers.’
‘I’d leave it if I were you, love,’ said Michael. ‘Wait and see what happens. We’re living rent-free at the moment – no use courting expense and creating problems for ourselves.’
‘If you think it’s rent-free here then you’re dafter than you look,’ said Jeanie wearily. ‘Come on, Michael, we’ve lost so much, but let’s start as we mean to go on. The laundry and mending business was what kept us going many a week in Bolton. The boys will need new school uniform come September and we can’t live for ever on what Mum and I saved from the washing.’
‘I do my bit—’
‘Picking tomatoes!’
‘But we get given vegetables, too.’
‘Mr Clackett’s been very generous, and I’m grateful, but we can’t eat nowt but vegetables.’
‘By heck, Jeanie, you’re a grand cook and few others could make them veggies taste as good as you do, but what I wouldn’t give for a helping of hotpot.’
‘Evie and I are to catch the bus to Redmond in the morning and we shall find Mr Bailey, introduce ourselves and make sure our plans are all straight and above board with him. What if there’s been some mistake and he doesn’t even know we’re here?’
‘You’re right, of course …’ said Michael, getting up and stretching his stiff back. ‘I’ll just go out and take a stroll up the street while you’re making that carrot thing.’
‘Don’t be too long, love. You’re looking tired and the veg doesn’t take much cooking.’
Michael grunted as he went down the hall, past Sue, Evie and Peter still scrubbing the walls, floor and ceiling of the front room. He stepped out into the street and turned towards the Red Lion, thinking he’d already left it far too long to make the acquaintance of his new local.
Jeanie and Evie got off the bus in the market square in Redmond. It was market day and on this sunny July morning the place was thronging with shoppers carrying baskets, women pushing prams and traders shouting their wares from the brightly coloured stalls.
‘Oh, Mum, let’s have a quick look,’ begged Evie.
‘A look won’t hurt,’ agreed Jeanie, ‘but we won’t buy anything until we’ve found Mr Bailey and seen about the rent and if we can go ahead with the sewing. Look, there’s Mr Clackett behind that stall. And Martin’s helping him.’ She waved and the market gardener called out cheerily to her.
‘Let’s see if there’s a fabric stall or a haberdasher’s,’ suggested Evie. ‘We can report back to Grandma if anything looks good.’
‘Aye, your gran has high standards,’ said Jeanie, ‘though we may have to make do to start with and work our way up to best quality as we earn a bit of money.’
‘It sounds like you think Grandma’s idea really will work out.’ Evie’s smile lit up her face. ‘I’m so glad, Mum. The washing was hard, but it was nice when us three were all working together. It’ll be like that again.’
‘From oldest to youngest, we all stick together,’ Jeanie agreed.
‘It’s going to be brilliant. I can’t wait to get started.’
They soon spotted a stall heaped with bolts of cloth, but the prices were high compared to those the Carters were used to up North.
‘No mill shops here either,’ said Jeanie. ‘Well, I suppose we couldn’t expect it to be as cheap as it is straight from the factory. That lace is nice, though.’
‘We’ll remember to tell Grandma. Come on, let’s go and see if we can find Mr Bailey.’
They had already made a plan. The public library was a grand-looking building on one side of the square and they went in and found the reference library where a sign instructed ‘SILENCE’. Josie Lambert had mentioned that Frederick Bailey drove a smart car so it was highly likely he was the kind of man who also had a telephone in his house. Jeanie and Evie quickly found the local telephone directory and in less than two minutes were coming out of the library with the addresses written down of two people: ‘F. Bailey’ and ‘F. W. Bailey’.
‘We’ve no way of knowing so we’ll just have to try one, and then the other if we have to,’ said Jeanie.
‘Maybe look out for a policeman – they always know where places are – but we’ll ask Mr Clackett in the meantime.’
They went back over to the market and had to wait while Mr Clackett did a brisk trade in salad before he was free to give them his attention.
‘Woodfall Road – don’t know that, I’m afraid, Mrs Carter. Eh, Stanley,’ he called across to a man selling sausages. ‘Woodfall Road – ring any bells?’
Stanley scratched his head. ‘Off the main road out towards Church Sandleton,’ he said eventually.
‘What about Midsummer Row?’ asked Jeanie.
‘Oh, that’s just behind here,’ said Mr Clackett. ‘Next to that shoe shop there’s a side road that goes down into a little square.’
‘Thank you,’ beamed Jeanie, and she and Evie set off for the nearer place.
‘Oh, I suddenly feel quite nervous,’ said Jeanie as they walked through into the pretty square with trees in a tiny central garden and tall thin town houses overlooking it all round.
‘Perhaps he’ll be really nice,’ suggested Evie, though she, too, was anxious and her stomach was churning.
‘Do I look all right?’ asked Jeanie. ‘I don’t want to appear down at heel. I want Mr Bailey to think we’re respectable folk who can be trusted.’
Evie stopped walking and pulled her mother round to face her. She tipped her straw hat a fraction further forward and brushed a tiny speck of dust off the lapel of her floral print jacket. It was old but Sue had made it from quality cotton spun and woven in Bolton and, with its eye-catching colours and sharp tailoring, it had stood the test of time and was a fine advertisement for Sue’s dressmaking skills.
‘Mum, you look lovely,’ Evie told her mother truthfully. ‘Now let’s see which one’s Marlowe House.’