The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

smiled at the compliment. ‘How much is it?’

      ‘Half a guinea.’

      ‘I’ll give you eight shillings.’

      The girl shook her head. ‘I daren’t, miss. I’d get the sack.’

      ‘Nine and six, then. Or I’ll go somewhere else.’

      ‘All right … But even at half a guinea it would be a very prudent purchase, miss. It would have cost seventeen shillings and sixpence new. And it looks so well on you.’

      ‘I’ll take it,’ Poppy said. ‘But I need some other things as well.’

      ‘Oh? Whatever help I can give …’ The girl smiled more confidently now.

      Poppy, still conscious of her origins, said, ‘I need a new shift, chemise, stockings, garters … Oh, and a mantle for the winter. Our fathers were navvies, and we’ve just left the railway encampment at Blowers Green.’ She felt sure that an explanation was appropriate. ‘It’s closing down and we’ve decided we want to make our own way in the world. So we need to look neat and tidy if anybody’s going to give us work. If you’ve got any tips you can give us on what to wear for the best, miss, we’d be glad of ’em.’

      ‘Of course. I’d be only too pleased.’ The girl smiled amenably now. These were not only down-to-earth girls and sociable, but they even looked up to her, a mere shop girl. There was also a shilling or two to be made here.

      ‘And when you’ve done me, Minnie wants new clothes as well.’

      ‘But I’ve only got two and sixpence, Poppy,’ she protested.

      ‘Oh, don’t worry, Minnie. I’ve got enough for both of us.’

      ‘You didn’t have to buy me a whole new wardrobe, Poppy,’ Minnie said, as they left the shop feeling like real ladies, having decided to wear their new purchases. ‘How much did you spend?’

      ‘Less than four pounds. I told you, Buttercup gave me some money before I left. What use is it unless you spend it?’

      ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Poppy …’

      ‘You’re my friend, Minnie. You’d do the same for me. Anyway, I might want a favour myself some day. And that frock looks like it was made for you.’

      ‘And yours. It matches your eyes beautiful.’

      They walked on, carrying their old clothes in bags the shop girl had supplied.

      ‘Did you notice that girl’s hair, Minnie?’ Poppy asked.

      ‘Course.’

      ‘I’d like mine done like that, pinned up all neat and tidy. I’ll try and do it later, when we’ve found somewhere to sleep tonight.’

      ‘Where are we gunna sleep, Poppy?’

      ‘An inn, I reckon, eh? Then we can look for cheaper lodgings that’ll do us till we find work.’

      Poppy and Minnie found a room at the Old Bush Inn in the middle of Dudley town, about a hundred yards from the old town hall. The landlord was reticent about letting them have it at first. He looked at them suspiciously, for he could not quite place them in the social scale, and asked them why girls so young wished to take such a room when they were clearly unchaperoned. But, when he saw Poppy’s money and took a deposit, he was left in no doubt of her ability and willingness to pay. He warned them that they must not have men in their room; he would not tolerate that sort of thing going on. His was a respectable coaching house and he had to maintain its reputation, with respectable visitors from London and other faraway places coming and going all the time.

      Poppy nudged Minnie and grinned at the absolute novelty of being shown to their room by a serving maid, however untidy. Her hair was awry under her mob cap, and her fingernails still showed signs of a visit to the coal cellar. At the top of the stairs, she unlocked a door and allowed the young guests to enter.

      ‘This is yer room. I hope you’ll be comfitubble.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Poppy said with an indulgent smile, enjoying the novelty of feeling sublimely superior and ladylike in her new blue outfit and stockings and the fashionable boots Robert Crawford had bought her.

      ‘I’ll be back in a bit to light yer a fire. It goes chilly this side o’ th’ouse.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Poppy said again, unfastening the ribbons of her new bonnet.

      After the maid had lit the promised fire, the girls settled in, giggling and pampering themselves, all too aware that for the time being they were free from the drudgery of work. Poppy placed a chair in front of the window and peered onto the heads and hats of passers-by in the street below, while Minnie dressed her hair for her, in an effort to copy the shop girl’s style. A coach halted outside and there were calls from the driver and the ostler as passengers disembarked and its cargo of luggage was unloaded. A horse whinnied, a cart clattered past. There was so much going on down there, noise and an endless movement of people and traffic.

      ‘Did you notice the maid?’ Poppy said. ‘She must’ve thought us proper ladies in our new clothes.’

      Minnie chuckled delightedly. ‘I know. I thought that. It’s nice to be looked on as somebody important, in’t it?’

      ‘For once.’

      ‘What shall we do tonight, Poppy?’

      Poppy shrugged. ‘We could go for a walk in the town and show off our new clothes.’

      ‘Yes,’ Minnie replied with enthusiasm. ‘Who knows? We might even meet a couple of dandies.’

      ‘You’ve got men on the brain, Minnie. Am I done yet?’

      ‘Just about.’ Minnie patted Poppy’s hair a last time. ‘Turn your head. Let’s have a look … Yikes! Now you really do look a somebody …’

      ‘Let me see.’ Poppy stood up and walked across the room to the wardrobe that had a long mirror on one door. She looked at herself, turning her head this way and that to view the creation from all angles. The set of her head looked different with her hair up. There was an elegance about her that she did not realise she possessed, and it delighted her. ‘I’ll have to make sure my neck’s clean in future, Minnie,’ she giggled.

      Minnie laughed too. ‘Not just your neck. Ladies have a bath regular, I bet. I never bin in a bath in me life.’

      Poppy pinched her cheeks and bit her lips to redden them. ‘Oh, I don’t see as you need to go in a bath if you have a good wash down regular.’

      ‘Well, we can have a good wash down here all right, with no navvies to come a-spying … So you like your hair then?’

      ‘I love it,’ Poppy replied. She turned away from the mirror. ‘I’ll do yours now, shall I, Minnie?’

      ‘I doubt if it’ll look as good as yours.’

      ‘Are you saying I won’t be as good as you at this hair-doing lark?’

      Minnie chuckled happily. ‘I mean my hair, not your fiddling with it …’ She sighed contentedly. ‘You know, I’d love a cup of tea, Poppy. Shall we ask that scruffy little wench to bring us a pot? I’ll pay …’

      Dudley Town Hall was a looming two-storey affair built of brick and stone. The civic business of the Town Commissioners was conducted in the rooms on the upper floor, where tall, rectangular, Tudor-style windows afforded views towards St Thomas’s church at the top end of the town, and the old St Edmund’s, dwarfed by the castle, at the bottom. It was crowned by a small tower, from which tolled the original bell, taken from the Old Priory, when the marking of civic occasions and calamities was required. The lower part of the building was open to the elements, being nothing more than a series of arches that supported the upper floor. It provided accommodation for traders who set up stalls there on market days and shelter from the rain